


The Bravest Thing

by livvels1012



Series: The Bravest Thing [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, MomGwen, Warning for child abuse content, dadvid, generally it's gonna get angstier from here on out guys, warning for parental death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvels1012/pseuds/livvels1012
Summary: Max has been living with his foster mothers, Aster and Victoria, for some time now. Unknown to him, David has done the work for him to be transferred to his care and plans to tell Max on his fast approaching eleventh birthday. Max finds it harder to adjust to his new life due to a myriad of physical and mental health problems inflicted by his parents, and becomes paranoid he isn't as safe in Sleepy Peak as those around him promise. His father's twisted teachings haunt him wherever he goes. Sequel to the A Bridge Over Troubled Water series.





	1. Chapter 1

Fall had truly come in earnest. In the mornings, David could see his breath fogged the air and he finally had the moment of truth when he turned the heat on for the first time in the house. He was completely moved in, after converting his mother’s old office to his bedroom and his mother's old bedroom to the office. He planned to give his old room to Max; he couldn’t sleep where his mother once did and he didn’t want Max to either.   
  
David scanned over the manual that he had been given, reading the instructions carefully as he stood by the front door in front of the little panel for the security system. If anyone tried to breach the windows or open the door, the first alarm would sound for fifteen seconds, during which David (or anyone else who could) could shut it off. If it wasn’t, the police were called.   
  
It was half David wanting to do everything to keep Max safe, half wanting Max to _ feel _ safe. In the last month and a half, Max asked him not two, not three but _ seven _ times if he was certain his father didn’t know where he lived and if he really was safe with the Teablooms. Every time, David reassured him, but he knew Max may never truly believe it. It broke David’s heart that Sunil took that from him. Every kid had the right to feel safe.   
  
He set the code for the system, 1118. Max’s birthday. He might choose something more varied later, but for now it was easy to remember and he hoped it wasn’t too obvious. Another thing he checked off his list, literally; he had a clip board of things to get done, pages with notes and additions. But now he was down to the very last one and there was just one glaring thing left to do, that he wrote in big letters with lots of exclamation points. **DEAL WITH THE BOXES** .   
  
Everything had come out of the storage locker, and most furniture David sold or donated what he could to get new stuff, but then there were the things in plastic containers from his childhood or family heirlooms or his mother’s things. They were all dumped in the living room or office, waiting to be sorted out.

  
“Start with what you can put in the attic,” he said softly to himself, heading into the living room and looking around the mass of clutter. It still made him uneasy to go through relics of the past, and he kicked himself for it. _ You’re twenty four darn years old, stop it. _ David pulled out the first one he saw and began shoving it to one side of the room into the goes-to-the-attic section. Old holiday stuff, knick knacks he wasn’t sure about...Then he came across a box of photo albums.   
  
His nostalgia got the better of him and he took one out and started to thumb through it. They were mostly from around second grade years and he found what was probably the first of the three halloweens in his werewolf phase. His mother dressed him up in wolf footie pajamas, pinned a tail to the back and painted his face for him and he ran around pretending to ‘maul’ Granda, who entertained him since he was five and harmless. _ Halloween is just around the corner. If I lay the groundwork, maybe I can get Max to go trick-or-treating… _   
  
He found himself staring too long at a picture of him carving pumpkins with his mother, as she separated out the seeds onto a cookie sheet to roast them for later. The tank was hidden out of view, but he could see the nasal cannulae fixed to her face, feeding oxygen to her weakening lungs. It was the last time she had been able to walk the neighborhood with him for Halloween.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, to her, to no one. The room stayed silent around him. The only reply was the creak of glass window panes with the crisp autumn winds pushing against them, but they were unable to get inside.   
  
He shoved the album into the box and kicked it into a dark corner, like it was a live snake that would lash out at him at any moment. He kept hearing his grandfather’s advice, like being poked incessantly in the head until he finally gave in.   
  
David grabbed his jacket and scarf, his keys and set off to the florists.

  


* * *

  
  
  
“Am I even doing this right?” Max asked, looking up at Victoria as she clacked away on her dinosaur of a computer at the clerk desk. Her colorful bright nails flashed while she typed and she looked over at him with a smile, big hoop earrings swinging. 

  
“Winifred seems to think so,” she said cheerfully, gesturing to the dog that was huffing at Max while she rolled over onto her back, indignant he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He turned back to brushing her. He couldn’t believe when David first brought him here, this big baby scared him.   
  
She was not a hellhound but a noble Saint Bernard, and a retired rescuer at that. She pulled people out of avalanches and floods, found missing kids that wandered off from camp sites and so on. It took Max a long time to warm up to her, as she followed him around daily, accepting instantly that it was her job to look after this tiny helpless human (or what Max guessed her monologue to be) regardless of if he wanted it.   
  
When he woke up with her nosing his cheek from a bad dream, and she soothed him by licking his tears away, he finally caved and let her climb up onto his bed. Ever since, she slept in his room each night, often with her chin on his chest to stop him from tossing and turning. Now he fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and while petting her soft ears.   
  
All things considered, his foster moms were okay. They gave him space and he liked his room, which had a window that overlooked the street where he could people watch or look at the forest at the edge of the little town with some binoculars David had granted him. Victoria was sweet and made the best food and had given him one of her bracelets, a circle of rhodonite beads. She was one eccentric lady, but Max found her so nonthreatening that she was actually easy to like right away.   
  
Chief Teabloom, though.   
  
She was impossible to pigeon hole.   
  
She was _ oh so English _ and polite, and easy to believe she helped raise David with a sunny disposition to rival his. But she was also intense, and he could _ swear _ sometimes he heard her talking to herself when she thought she was alone. As kind and understanding as she was, Max instantly knew she had a screw loose. It was the way she looked into shadowy corners and she geared up with her hand hovering, ready to go to her service weapon, when there was a loud and unexpected noise. She was as kind and patient as David said, but Max knew she was dangerous. He just wondered if she was dangerous towards _ him. _   
  
But Max rarely ever actually saw her. Being the chief of police, she worked long hours and spent those at home in the office where her wife brought her dinner. She did check on him every night, and they sometimes shared early morning cups of coffee while she got him set up on his online school, which would fast track him through third grade.   


Although it wasn’t really coffee. He got milk with a _ splash _of coffee in it.

  
_ “I always drink black,” he growled. _   
  
_ “That explains it. Coffee stunts your growth.” _   
  
_ He glared at her, then theatrically sniffed around and asked, “Huh, do you smell bacon?”_

  
_ It only made him angrier when she laughed at his joke. She wasn’t supposed to think it was funny! _

  
  
But Max did appreciate that even with her strictness and no-nonsense household, she let him be him. She let him swear, as long as it wasn’t at her or her wife, and be moody and distant, but didn’t disregard him. She was down to earth and endlessly patient, which was good. She would have to be. Max wasn’t sure he would ever trust her.   
  
But he liked Winnie the best. He loved to sit with her and talk to her about anything, and she listened with her big soft brown eyes. He squished her doggy cheeks and she stuck her tongue out at him, her tail thumping loudly. “You understand everything I’m saying, right, Win?” He asked, and she wagged her tail faster. “Yeah, you do. You’re a smart girl.”

While Victoria rustled around her shop misting plants and humming softly with the music that played with a crackle through old speakers, Max got up and Winnie immediately began to lumber after him. “Hey, Vicky?” He asked hesitantly, testing the boundaries, even though she had said over and over again he could call her that. “Can I go across the street to get a snack, please?”  
  
She paused and scrunched up her nose as she looked out the windows at the street. “I suppose, dear. As long as you use the crosswalk and take Winifred with you. And bring me back something sweet,” she added, going over to the register and taking out a bill and handing it to him. “And wear your coat!”   
  
Max rolled his eyes but grabbed it from under the counter and yanked it on, not acknowledging her sing-songy, “Thank you!” as he did.   
  
Winifred held calmly still as he put her harness and leash on her, but it wasn’t really necessary. She would never leave his side, and she walked him more than he walked her. Max looped the leash around his wrist and shoved his hands into his pockets, the bell tingling merrily as he slipped through the door.   
  
It was a fifteen minute trip altogether, as he waited for the cross light like a stand up citizen and got a cinnamon roll and two hot chocolates at the pancake house. As he waited for his change, Max glanced around the restaurant, which was never empty but it wasn’t crowded at the moment. There was an old man having a coffee and reading a book with a cane at his side, two families and an individual at the bar. A young woman in a crisp white reefer coat, who was staring at him over a plate of eggs, with a silk scarf over her head and half-moon glasses, the lenses tinted purple.   
  
For whatever reason, his hair stood up on the back of his neck and Max shoved his change into his pocket. “Come on, Winnie,” he said quietly, tugging the leash. The dog growled low and soft in her throat in the woman’s direction, who twinkled her fingers in a wave and said cheerfully, “Cute dog! Can I pet her?”   
  
“No,” Max said flatly, as he was pulled by the leash in turn, since the Saint Bernard decided their snack run was done and began marching to the exit with her charge in tow. He pushed the button for the cross walk and anxiously ran his hand along Winifred’s back, trying to calm his nerves. “That lady was fucking creepy, huh?” he said to her and she perked her ears at him in what he interpreted as agreement.   
  
Just as the light changed, he saw the very same woman leave the pancake house and Max quickened his step to get across the street. He subtly glanced over his shoulder, watching her start to cross and then stop. Her cheshire smile shattered and she turned on her heel and headed the other direction. _ What’s her deal? _ He thought, as Winifred continued to growl until she was out of sight. Normally Max would’ve brushed it off, but somehow he just got the feeling that if Winifred was upset, he should be too.   
  
He turned back, only to run square into someone and almost dropped the hot chocolates. “God dammit! Watch where you’re going, asswipe!”   
  
“Language!”   
  
Max looked up into a familiar fair freckled face, and instantly felt admonished. _ Aw, shit. _ “David?” he asked, and the man nodded with a strained smile, “What are you doing here? It’s a school day.”   
  
“Oh, it’s a field trip day for the upper grades. I only had to teach the A.M kindergarten. I’ve been off for a few hours now.” he replied, tucking a bouquet of flowers under his arm. Lambs ear stalks, larkspur, and little white daisies. _ What are those for? _ “Max, are you okay?”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“You look a little on edge.” David leaned down and patted Winnie’s head, who calmed down enough to sniff his hand in a friendly manner.   
  
“I’m just cold.” Max looked over his shoulder one more time, just to make sure the weirdo was gone. Truth be told, he was glad David was there. Maybe whatever that creeper bailed on whatever she was up to when she saw an adult in the vicinity, if she had been up to anything at all. Max knew he could be paranoid and he was sure that was all it was, but he was going to play it safe and stick with someone he _ knew _ wouldn’t let anything happen to him. “Are you going somewhere?”   
  
“I was--”   
  
“Awesome. Give me a second to tell Vicky.” he pushed past David into the store, ignoring him stutter in confusion. Max wanted some distance from this place for a little while, just in case something was up, and if David was going on a date or something, he was happy to crash it and get the pent up mayhem out of his system. He held up the tray of hot chocolate for Victoria to see and she clapped her hands in glee, her bracelets jingling musically. “Thank you, darling,” she said, coming around the counter and taking hers from him. “Did you say hello to your friend?”   
  
“Yep, I’m going to tag along with him for a bit.” Max fixed Winifred’s leash to his belt loop so his hands were free. “If-- if that’s okay…”   
  
“As long as he brings you back in time for dinner. I’m making butter chicken, extra spicy, just how you like it and I got ice cream to go with apple crumble for dessert.”   
  
_ Goddamn, that sounds good. _ “What’s the occasion?”   
  
Victoria shrugged with a smile, “Because I love apple crumble?” she replied, as the bell jingled again and she waved over his shoulder. “Hello, Davey! I was just saying Max has to be home by dinner time, but the day is yours other--”   
  
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t get a chance to say Max can’t come with me.”   
  
_ What? _Max felt his heart sink in disappointment. David let him go everywhere with him, the idiot was happy to take him on any errand he possibly could. He often swung by the shop just to ask if he wanted to come with him to the grocery store or library, outside of their Sunday visit. 

David met his eyes with an apologetic look and Max immediately stared down at his feet to avoid it, not wanting to seem too eager to spend time with David. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I don’t think you’d like this little trek. Maybe I can visit for dinner?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I like it?” 

“Um…” He could tell David was disturbed about _ something _ , the way he was stumbling over his choice of words and fidgeting with his gloves.   
  
“Who are the flowers for, David?” Max jabbed a finger in their direction and David held the bouquet protectively, looking more and more skittish, like a cat trying to cross a busy street. _ Got him _ , he thought triumphantly as David finally knelt down to his level. “I’m going to a church,” he said and Max instantly regretted it. He stepped back from David. _ “Why?” _   
  
“Because these flowers are for my mom. And I don’t want you to come because I know you don’t feel comfortable in those kinds of places. It’s not because I don’t want to see you--”   
  
“Alright, I get it!” Max cut him off, and he jerked his hand away as Winnie gave it a comforting lick. He slowly looked up at David, and he could see the shitty effort he was making to appear strong. But he knew David well enough to not be fooled. He groaned quietly under his breath, and finally yanked his hood up over his ears. “Are you going _ inside _ the church?”   
  
“No…?”   
  
“Then I’m good, let’s go.”   
  
“Maaax, _ no _ , I said--” David started but Max grabbed his free hand and started trying to tug him towards the door. Just as they got outside of it, David finally gripped Max’s in return and pulled him back. Not too hard, just enough to make him stop and face him, and Max didn’t like the look he was getting one bit. _ Oh shit, is he mad? _   
  
“What is going on with you?” David demanded firmly. “Why do you want to leave with me so badly, did something happen?”   
  
That was just it. Max didn’t know if something had happened. He swallowed nervously, not used to David talking to him like that. “I’m just worried,” he answered, his voice thin. “I want to go with you, that’s all.”   
  
“Really? That’s all?”   
  
Max nodded and tried not to blink for as long as he could as David scrutinized him under his gaze, then let out a breath of relief when he stood up with a simple, “Okie dokie. You can come, but no funny business, this is really serious.” 

He was scared David didn’t believe him, in fact, he was sure he _ didn’t _ but he didn’t push his luck. He followed David to his car and got into the backseat with Winifred, who climbed over his lap to stick her head out of his window ungracefully. “Ugh! Winnie! You’re crushing me!” And she responded by giving him a big slobbery kiss up the side of his head.   
  
David drove in almost total silence, only talking in the flattest voice Max had ever heard him talk with towards the later half of the trip. “Do you like dogs, Max?”   
  
“I like _ Winnie _ .”   
  
“Aster said she stays in your room each night. Are you sleeping better?”   
  
“A little bit. The sound machine really helps a lot...Thanks, David.”   
  
“You’re very welcome.” The car whined to a stop in front of a stone cathedral, as big and menacing as anything. Max didn’t see the pretty stained glass windows or the bells at the top, he just saw something familiar that he associated with his father. Instinctively, he reached his arms around Winnie’s neck and hugged her.

“I can take you back to Vicky if you want, bud.”  
  
Max answered by kicking open his door and getting out of the car, but he did wait for David, while he stole glances at the building. He could see the age set into the stone, some cracks here and there, and repairs being done on one of the bell steeples. “How old is this place?”   
  
“It was built when the town was,” David locked the car and looked around nervously, facing the pathway that went around the building. He waited for David to lead the way but realized that he was just as stuck. In fact, Max wondered which of them was more afraid of this place, him or David. He awkwardly exchanged a look with Winifred, trying to think of what Gwen would want him to do, or even Vicky and Aster. _ Say something nice to a stranger at least once a day, if opportunity allows _ . David wasn’t a stranger, but the lesson still applied. “The flowers you picked are really pretty,” he attempted and held up his hand to David, who looked at him in surprise. “Did your mom like larkspur?”   
  
His hand was accepted and he started down the pathway, this time leading David. “She planted them all around our house. Along with sunflowers and snapdragons.”   
  
Soon, they passed through an open iron gate in the lot behind the church, and it was a _ big _ yard. Statues, monuments and headstones all over, even some mausoleums and he could see where it split off in different pathways to sections he couldn’t see. He didn’t know how anyone would find a particular person in this place but David seemed to know where he was going. The further back they went, the older and more crumbled the stones became and Max noticed the dates were going further and further back. Then finally, they came to a large plot. There were two mausoleums and a few headstones and a few statues, even some obelisks. But Max recognized some engravings all over, on the entrance and some of the graves; dara knots, and faded crests that resembled the quilt.   
  
“David…?” he asked, looking up at the one statue of an angel. She was standing on a short pedestal, one arm cradling some kind of small harp, large carved feather wings subtly extended, a veil over her head, softly smiling. Statues normally creeped him out, and they still did, but this one was pretty and very well made. All the flowy fabric of her dress looked so real, he had the urge to touch it and double check. In her other hand, she held a caduceus.   
  
Max dropped his gaze to the pedestal and his heart twisted as he processed the epitaph.   
  
** _Willow Marian Rowntree_ **

** _1963-2001_ ** **** _  
_ ** _Beloved Mother, Daughter and Friend_ ** **** __  
**  
** **“Do not stand at my grave and weep**

**I am not there; I do not sleep.**

**I am a thousand winds that blow,**

**I am the diamond glints on snow,**

**I am the sun on ripened grain,**

**I am the gentle autumn rain.**

**When you awaken in the morning's hush**

**I am the swift uplifting rush**

**Of quiet birds in circled flight. **

**I am the soft stars that shine at night. **

**Do not stand at my grave and cry, **

**I am not there; I did not die.**”

  
  
_ What does that mean? _ Max thought to himself. It was a pretty poem, but he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a very foreign sound come from David. Something like a sob, but that couldn’t be right; David could be a cry baby but he wouldn’t cry in front of Max if he could help it.   
  
Yet there he was, pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle it and taking deep, struggling breaths. “David?” he asked again, more panicked than he meant to.   
  
He felt even worse when David lowered his hand and smiled at him through those unshed tears and shook his head, “I’m okay, Max. Give me a minute, okay? I’m fine--”   
  
“Dude...I think it’s pretty acceptable to cry when, y’know, visiting your...dead mom,” _ I’m so bad at this, _ Max thought. “You can be sad. The world won't end.”   
  
David let go of Max’s hand to wipe his eyes with his coat sleeve, his breaths short as he tried his best to calm down. “This is why I didn’t want you to come, Max, I didn’t want you to see my like this. I’m really okay! This always happens _ … _ I-I come here to talk to her or I used to, and it’s so _ stupid _ . I’ll get over it in a second.”   
  
Max glared up at him furiously, in a mixture of sympathy and indigence. He wanted to kick David in the shin, but he was making an effort to be better towards the people around him and violence might contradict that. “Hypocrite.”   
  
“Wh-what?”   
  
“No pretending, that’s our deal. We’ve known each other long enough that you shouldn’t have to fake being happy around me. I can tell the bullshit from the real thing. You promised to look after me, and you’re doing that and-- and I’m grateful, I _ really _ am, but you can take that promise back if it’s going to be one sided.” Max reached up and quickly snatched the flowers away before David could stop him, who was just standing there stunned, one tear rolling freely down his cheek before he could hide it. “It goes both ways,” Max insisted. “So...talk to your mom. I’m here if you need a-- a hug or whatever, I don’t know, this is really weird for me.”   
  
With that, he sat right down in the grass and began to carefully place the bouquet in the iron cup that was fixed to the side of the pedestal, and Winifred laid down next to him. He was scared he overstepped until David finally sat down next to him, still sniffling as he took off his scarf. Max held still as David gently wrapped it around his neck, giving his cheeks and nose a reprieve from the cold wind. “This is Max,” he said, putting a hand on his head as he looked down at the epitaph. “He’s a really, _ really _ great kid, Mom. He likes your songs and...”   
  
Max listened to David speak about things that happened over the summer, the other kids, about his day and his new job. He didn’t want to think about how there were definitely a bunch of skeletons and decomposing bodies right under his feet, and he flinched as the church bells began to go off. But he kept a straight face and wormed his way under David’s arm, refusing to budge until this was done. Everything David had gone through for him, Max just wanted to do this for his sake, to give a little back.   
  
Finally, David stood up and Max followed his lead. “I’ll come back soon, okay? Maybe with Granda...Love you.” His voice broke, “ _ Miss _ you.”   
  
It was growing dark and Max tensed up his shoulders with his hands in his pockets, trying to hide how he was beginning to shiver, the wind biting through his jeans. “Nice meeting you,” he told the statue.   
  
David walked him back to the car, vigorously rubbing his hands up and down Max’s arms to warm him up, before ushering him into the back seat and turning the heat on as soon as the car was started. Winifred helped to snuggle the chill away. After a little while, the street lights clicked on and David put on the radio, one of the c.d’s they both liked. Max leaned against the dog and closed his eyes to listen. He really did like this song.

  
  
** _When I was born_ **

** _They looked at me and said_ **

** _What a good boy_ **

** _What a smart boy_ **

** _What a strong boy…_ **

  
“Max?” David asked and he opened his eyes. “Oh, sorry. Were you napping?”

  
  
** _And when you were born_ **

** _They looked at you and said_ **

** _What a good girl_ **

** _What a smart girl_ **

** _What a pretty girl…_ **

  
  
“Nope.” Max idly scratched Winifred’s head the really soft patch of fuzzy fur between her ears. Even where it was shortest, it was so dense, probably because she was a snow dog. He wished it would snow already, he bet she would be thrilled. “I’m up.”   
  
“That was...really difficult for me. But it was a lot easier because you helped and everything you said was right, that’s just how family works. Everyone does their part to take care of each other.”   


** _We've got these chains_ **

** _Hanging 'round our necks_ **

** _People want to strangle us with them_ **

** _Before we take our first breath_ **

** _Afraid of change_ **

** _Afraid of staying the same_ **

** _When temptation calls_ **

** _We just look away_ **

  
_ Family? _ Max stared at the back of David’s head, the choice of words absolutely astonishing him. He didn’t know how family worked outside of...well, outside of the example set for him by the new people in his life. “You’re always telling people I’m a great kid,” he shrugged, fidgeting at the scar behind his neck. “I’m _ trying _ to be.”   
  
“You are, Max. You’re the best!”   
  
He slouched in his seat and fiddled with the end of the scarf. It smelled like cedar and fireplace smoke...like the counselor cabin, like _ home. _ “Am I going to see you before Sunday?”   
  
“I wish but I’m pretty busy for the rest of the week...I can stay for dinner if you want?”   
  
Max sat forward hopefully, “Vicky’s making apple crumble. Can you stay until I go to sleep?”   
  
“Sure, kiddo. I'm happy to.”   
  
Dinner with David and Vicky had actually become one of Max’s favorite things. Vicky usually set them up in front of the T.V with a board game, and much to David’s chagrin, Cards Against Humanity was their favorite and that was giving Max _ far _ too much power. It was more of the family addition, but once in a while, he sneaked the cards from the classic set into throw them for a loop. David was always mortified, Victoria found it hilarious.   


With David to put him to bed, Victoria left to bring Aster some dinner during the night shift, but David let him stay up an extra hour to finish the movie. By the end, his eyelids were heavy and he was starting to yawn, which Winifred echoed. “You ready?” David asked with a smile and Max nodded, hopping off the couch. They headed up the stairs together and David held the covers back as Max climbed into his bed, then tucked them around him, all down his sides and around his toes. Max picked up his bear while David put his sound machine on, and came back to sit on the edge of the bed. Max closed his eyes while David ran his hand over his hair, something he routinely did now to help him sleep. He never asked him to do it; it felt weird still, but he never minded now when he did. “You seem happy here, Max.”   
  
“It’s not worse than camp,” he murmured sleepily. “And I don’t hate them.”   
  
“That’s the spirit. I’m so proud of how well you’re doing.”   
  
“Shh,” Max sluggish swatted David’s arm. “Trying to go to sleep, idiot.”   
  
“Whoops, sorry, little bear.”   
  
David was gone when he woke up in the morning, and even though it bummed Max out, it wasn’t as bad as before.   
  
This place felt more like home than his old house ever did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter mentions graphic violence, including a flashback from Max's POV.

Max had charged himself with mini projects to help pass the time, all dictated by little lists like Gwen had shown him and he had been diligently writing in it every night or whenever the urge hit him. Now he had a nice pen she had sent him, along with a big bag of assorted gummy bears to snack on. He overdid it the first day and got sick, but it was a two pound bag and it didn’t diminish his enthusiasm.    
  
He had also started trying to fill up the bulletin board on his wall. He got his pictures from camp developed, all his captured moments with Nikki and Neil, and Victoria let him buy a kid’s polaroid from an estate sale. She was always bringing him along with her to garage sales, flea markets and so on, looking for oddities or records. Something about taking a moment to find a view or angle he liked and snapping it frozen in time was cathartic for Max; it helped him slow down and disconnect, but not in an unpleasant way. He had collected pictures of the flowers in the shop, of Winnie watching a frog, some of the statues at the graveyard. Anything that interested him. And plastering the wall with them just helped to make the room more his.    
  
Between his online homeschool and his new hobbies, things were actually tolerable. He wasn’t holed up in his room because he felt like he had to be, but because he felt comfortable doing so. It was the first week of October and he didn’t think he would ever make it this far.    
  


He was just jotting some things down in his journal when a thunder like sound ripped through the air, making him jump out of his skin.  _ “God fucking dammit, shit!” _

Now there was just a great big black streak across the paper. Max stared down at it in disgust, and shoved the journal away, his train of thought completely eliminated by the cacophonous sound. It wasn’t thunder, that he knew. It was closer and  _ sharper _ . Max pushed his chair out and hurried over to the window to look into the backyard to investigate it.  _ What the hell…? _   
  
A minute later, Max had his coat and shoes on and was joining his foster mother in the backyard, as she looked down the barrel of her rifle again. “This is what you do with your day off?” he demanded, gesturing to the tree fifty feet away, where she had hung targets from. It was cold outside, but she was just wearing a flannel shirt, her breath fogging the air as she narrowed her eyes and pulled the trigger with her middle finger, and the target snapped around. When it slowed its spinning, there was a new hole in the dead center of it. 

“It relaxes me,” she said, turning her head towards him with a lopsided grin that made him shudder.   
  
“God, you are so fucking weird.” But he watched her with interest as she quickly reloaded it, despite having only one thumb. It was kind of cool that she didn’t seem to suffer any lack of dexterity and watching her do it was almost hypnotic.    
  
“That’s it, I’m saying it.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Ever since you came here, you’ve been staring at my hand. Just ask already, I can tell you’re dying to and you can’t offend me.”   
  
Max kicked the ground, disgruntled that she had noticed. He admittedly thought he had been sneaky about it, but he guessed if she had such a good dead eye, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t see. “Are you going to tell me for  _ real  _ or give me some veiled G-rated version of it?”   
  


“...Tell you what. Be a good lad and go into the shed and get my bow, the compound, not the long. There’s a quiver with some arrows, too, bring it here and I’ll tell you the version I couldn’t tell Davey.”   
  
_ Huh, _ Max raised his eyebrows and slowly made his way over to the shed. He didn’t know what that meant, but he was curious, so he did as she said. The shed was full of gardening and lawn equipment, but one wall did have a wood longbow in a case hanging on it, as well as some camping gear. He gathered up the supplies she asked for and hurried back, as she set her rifle aside. “Don’t touch that.”   
  
“I wasn’t going to.” he huffed, as she knelt down and didn’t take the objects offered to her. Instead, she turned him by his shoulders towards the hay bale target that was always set up and tied the quiver to his side.“Put the bow down, and make a triangle to look through your hands like this. Look at the target through it. Close your left eye…”   
  
“What are we--”   
  
“Just do it.”   
  
He grumbled, but did. “Open it, now the right. Did the target move either time?”   
  
“No…?”   
  
“How about that? You’re duel-eye dominant, lucky you! That means you can aim either way just as good, so just hold the bow with your dominant hand, there you go.”   
  
She poked and prodded him to get his stance right and it was kind of awkward, but Max felt pretty cool when he finally got to take aim and immediately thought Nikki would love this. But it was much harder to draw the string than expected and his hand shook as he did, pinching it with his thumb and pointer finger’s middle knuckle as directed. “This is the pinch draw. It’s what I grew up learning. Let it down, nice and slow, good job. Never shoot dry.”   
  
“Dry?”   
  
“Without an arrow. How much do you know about knights, Max?”   
  
He shot her a glare. “Nothing.” He didn’t know what that had to do with her hand, and he wasn’t Preston or Nerris. He couldn’t care less about some sweaty rotten toothed idiots in metal suits that were obsolete.   
  
“Way back when, it took years to become a knight. But when you did, you were a tank of armor and expertise in sword fighting, horse riding and killing. That’s why knights had their code of chivalry, because compared to common folk, they had an unfair advantage over the fates of their fellow men and they had to be kept in check somehow. Not all knights were good, though.”   
  
“Like cops.”   
  
She pointed at him with a smile, “You got it. Centuries ago, England was conquered by the French. French knights weren’t all that polite to the English commonfolk. They had done the work for the reward of tyranny but here’s the thing, Max. Ten years to be a knight, that’s what it took. But any one could make a bow and spend a month practicing with it to become halfway decent. And once they were,”   
  
She guided him to draw the bow differently, this time with the string against the seam of the inside of his three middle fingers first knuckle. This was a little easier; he had more control but it dug into his skin with a sting and he winced but kept quiet. “They could kill a knight from a hundred feet away in one shot. That is why the bow is the rebel’s weapon of choice.”   
  
“That’s pretty badass.” The rebel’s weapon of choice, he liked the sound of that. And if he thought about it, most movies and books with a protagonist that fought for the revolution sported the Robin Hood trope, didn’t they?    
  
“Why, thank you.”   
  
“Don’t take it personally, lady. What does this have to do with your hand?”   
  
“When rebels were caught, the tyrants tried to make an example of them. They pulled would-be heroes in front of those they wanted to take hope away from,” Aster held up her hand in front of him, her normally jovial face grim as could be and Max felt a chill down his spine. Something about the dark, steely look in her eyes she got just told him that she was nothing like anyone he had ever met. She was cut from a different cloth. “And they cut their draw fingers off.”   
  
“Jesus Christ!”   
  
“That’s probably what they said.”   
  
Max gestured uncertainly to her hand, trying not to think about it but the mental image of the little stumps spewing blood was in there already. “So is that what happened to you?”   
  
Aster took an arrow from the quiver, her expression tense as she helped knock it and gestured for him to draw again. He held it best he could, his arm shaking as she adjusted his aim. He felt the muscles straining and discomfort in his shoulder, the burn in his fingers as he tried to hold it steady but he breathed slow and focused on keeping his aiming hand steady. “Yes. Loose.”   
  
Max let the arrow go and it was the most  _ satisfying  _ sound, as it thunked deep into the hay into the ring outside of the bullseye. His lips twitched up into a smile and he let his hand hovered by his cheek, fingers tingling with the absence of the string. It wasn’t like pointing his BB gun or makeshift sling shots, this was different. It felt natural,  _ primal.  _ Like something inside him had always been looking for it and spoke up, _ “That, there, this is it!” _ when he let that arrow fly.    
  
Aster took the bow back and he handed her an arrow and she proceeded to hold up the middle finger of her left hand in front of him. “But here’s where they failed, my dear. The French, and those  _ cowards  _ that invaded this town decades ago, left us rebels with one finger left to shoot them with.”   
  
Her hand moved like lightning, that middle finger gripping the string as she pulled the fletching close against her cheek and she narrowed her eyes, set her jaw and a second later, it was sunk into the bullseye.  _ Whoa.  _ “Who were you rebelling against? The cult, in the eighties?”   
  
“Yes indeed. But they’re all gone now, don’t you worry.”   
  
“You’re  _ totally  _ sure about that?” Max asked, crossing his arms and thinking back to Daniel. He could hear the disconcerting crack of his neck as he bent his head with his madness, the maniacal glint of true belief in his eyes, the smell of sweet poison that probably tasted sweet too, right up until you puked up your burning insides.

It was all a little fuzzy for Max. After stepping into that sauna...it muddled things up in his head, and he found his mind could only focus on the senses of the experience immediately around it. The smell, the sound, the smothering heat that made it hard to breathe with the chorus of a gospel forcing its way into his head and replacing anything in its way.    
  
It was just like home. Max chalked up him being able to shake it off quicker than other campers because he was used to it, but he never was able to shake off a warning voice in his head screaming that this was all familiar. But he tried not to pay it any attention. He was screwed up but unlike Daniel, Max knew better than to listen to those voices.   
  
“You could say I had a  _ personal  _ stake in ensuring it. Here,” she handed the bow back to him. For whatever reason, it felt heavier in his hands than before. “Practice drawing it, your arm will get stronger. Maybe if you really want to learn, we can get you your own. I’ll convince Davey to cooperate,” she said, winking at him.   
  
“Why would David give a shit?”  _ He already got me a beebee gun. Although a bow is potentially  _ ** _lethal_ ** _ , so maybe he wouldn’t approve...not that I give a shit. _   
  
“If you haven’t noticed, merry man, Davey is quite invested in your upbringing.”   
  
Max did his best to pull the string without it being too wobbly, but it was difficult without her help.  _ I did notice. Also, what the fuck is a merry man?  _ “David said you taught him to do this stuff, too.”   
  
“I did, but he didn’t enjoy it very much. The first deer is always the hardest. I cried when I had to take down mine but I was your age. I let him wait until he was thirteen. Still, he was good about it. Respectful, and didn’t waste a bit of his catch. That’s the proper way, Max.”   
  
Max relaxed his arm, relieved to do it and faced her. It was hard to picture her raising David in that moment, this edgy survivalist who survived some Daniel-grade lunatics chopping her fingers off, which only seemed to piss her off. With her auburn hair and cheerful features, he could see her being mistaken for David’s biological mom, but it just didn’t fit. He couldn’t picture David aiming an arrow at a living, breathing thing and firing it into its heart, then all bloodied up as he emptied it out and took the skin and meat. David never wanted to hurt a thing; the guy stopped to pick up worms off the sidewalk and put them back in the grass, he braked to let squirrels cross the street and put spiders back outside with his bare hands. “He didn’t  _ really  _ kill and chop up a deer, did he?”   
  
“...You do not ‘chop up’ a deer, Max.”   
  
“You know what I mean.” he rolled his eyes, and started back towards the house. He heard her footsteps behind him. “Did he?”

  
“Yes, David hunted and he was very good at it.”  
  
Somehow hearing David had a talent for it was even more unnerving. “Was this before or after his mom…?” Max didn’t want to say it, but he trailed off to cough into his sleeve. He was getting a dry tickle in his throat and he regretted not having his scarf. He knew when he hit his limit for breathing in the cold, and he didn’t want to get that stupid whistling sound when he breathed or else Aster would figure him out. Max started to make his way back to the house.  
  
Aster held her hand out for the bow and he gave it back to her, along with the quiver as they stepped inside. When pointed to the chair by the breakfast bar and he obediently sat, as she got some juice out of the fridge and some tarts Victoria had made. As she put together their afternoon snack, she spoke. “After, David was nine when she passed. We knew it was coming, but the doesn’t make it easier.”  
  
“She got sick, right?” Max asked, accepting the pastries and breaking off a tiny piece of the crust to sneak to Winifred. “Nobody told me what with, though. Only that it’s hereditary.”  
  
“It’s a disease called cystic fibrosis,” Aster sighed, sitting down beside him and nibbling her own tart. “And it has no cure, so far. Sometimes people can survive it by organ transplants, but Willow wasn’t a candidate for surgery.”  
  
Even the name sounded brutal. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to really know the details but morbid curiosity got the better of him, “How does it work?”  
  
“Are you sure you want to know, Max? I don’t think David would want me to tell you about this. It won’t stop me from telling you if you want me to, but he does want what’s best for you, so...consider that.”  
  
Admittedly, Max viewed David’s protectiveness as less irritating than he used to but instead found it comforting. He knew David cared enough to go out of his way to shield him from harm, mental and physical, and Max learned to appreciate it. And she was right. David wanted what was best for him, whether he liked it or not. Vicky and Aster were proof. He didn’t want David to leave him there with them, but a microscopic part of Max _liked_ living with them and was glad for the experiences he’d had over the last month and a half.   
  
But he did want to know. Maybe if he did, he would better know what to say to help David when he was sad about his mom and he _wanted _to follow Gwen’s advice, of trying to be kinder. She insisted it might help him feel happier. And the other day at the pancake house, when he told a girl his age he liked her red glasses and her face lit up with a smile full of braces (reminding him of Nerris, reminding him of _camp) _and she excitedly told him she liked his bracelet, it _did _make him happy. He was glad he did it.   
  
“I want to know.” he said and felt impressed with the confidence in his voice.   
  
It diminished slightly when Aster gave him an analytic look with her dead-shot eyes, but she finally nodded. “Alright, then...Cystic fibrosis causes fluid to build up in the lungs. It inhibits breathing.Willow had to tote around an oxygen tank with her for years, and as it got worse, she wasn’t able to leave the house. Usually it’s diagnosed quite early in life, but sometimes it can be later. Most people with it don’t live much past their mid thirties and those are the fortunate ones. In Willow’s case, she always had a little bit of childhood asthma and infections, but nothing serious. She was diagnosed a little after she had Davey.”  
  
Max tensed up and looked at her as he did the math in his head. David was twenty-four. And he was nine when she died, and he saw on her headstone how long she had lived…  
_  
___She was twenty six when she was diagnosed. Oh, fuck. Fuck!   
  
Gwen had reassured him David was fine, but the idea that there was a chance he could get sick-- 

_ No. David isn’t shitty enough to do that to me _ . He watched Aster soften and she put an extra tart on his place from her own, “Don’t you fret, Max, Davey is just fine. He never so much as had a coughing spell as a boy.”   
  
But now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. What was that like, being a little kid, watching your mother fade away, wheezing for air until the clock ran out? Max put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair and digging them sharply into his scalp. He remembered covering his own mom with a blanket when she fell asleep on the couch, or didn’t even make it to the couch, wine on her breath and her mind completely separated from her body. He watched her, scared she took too much of her ‘medicine’ and she would forget about him or not wake up before his father was home and he would be  _ alone  _ with him. 

Sometimes she got sick, and he helped her clean up. But more often than not, she locked him in his room so he couldn’t see her poison herself and he just had to wait to know if she would come back. But their relationship was different. Willow had been a good mom, a surgeon, a productive member of society with friends and a life, and was devoted to her family. There was no doubt she loved  _ her  _ son and her son loved  _ her _ . Max didn’t know how to feel if his own mom got sick. He wouldn’t be glad she was gone but he wasn’t sure their relationship had been enough that he would cry over her for long.    
  
But what if  _ David  _ got sick? What if he had to watch him wither away? No more camping. No more walks around the park and chasing him when he acted out. If he got sick like his mom, would David still be able to sing, with lungs that didn’t work? He would still smile for Max, but every smile would be closer to the last.    
  
_ You are my whole world, Max _ .    
  
He remembered it clear as day, the gentility and love in his voice as he cradled him the way his parents never did. That David never forced him to earn his affection, never made him wonder if he was worthy of it, he just  **gave ** it to him freely because it was real and unconditional.    
  
The utter antithesis of his father.    
  
His father’s voice was deeper and had a coldness to it that felt like the edge of a cold blade scraping down your spine, the presence of  **death ** itself. Once when he was eight, he brought in an injured rabbit from the yard and tried to hide it in his room, feeding it celery and cozying it up in his blanket with Mr. Honeynuts. And when he came back with water for it, his father was there. He couldn’t see the rabbit’s head anymore, because his father’s shoe was blocking the way. Max didn’t understand then what Sunil had done. But he did remember what he said.    
_   
_ _ “We are all dying, child. No one can be saved by anyone, and it is a waste of our existence to try. Few values are more meaningless than mercy. This universe does not recognize it.” _ _   
_ _   
_ Of course, he was eight. Half those words he didn’t understand. He just bawled his eyes out that his bunny friend died and when he didn’t understand the lesson his father made, Sunil gave him a few scars to lock the memory in so one day he would be able to revisit it and understand it then. Understand it  __ now. 

But David would probably have tried to help him save the bunny, and if it still died, he would have hugged Max and dried his tears and probably said something meaningful about how it was in a better place or lucky to have been with them before it went, some cheesy shit like that.  _   
_ _   
_ Wouldn’t it be just like his father’s universe to take away him away?   
  
“His mom got diagnosed late,” Max felt his heart started to race and the familiar sensation of being cold when he  _ shouldn’t  _ be, his skin prickling with goosebumps. “So there’s a chance, isn’t there?”   
  
“He’s never shown symptoms--”   
_   
_ _ “Isn’t there?!” _ _   
_   
Max didn’t mean to shout, as he slammed his hands down on the table, catching the edge of his plate and sending it shattering to the floor. The sound of china smashing to pieces made every raw nerve fire up and Max stared down at it, hearing nothing but that sound and his pulse. When Aster moved in the corner of his eye, he didn’t even think about it. He jumped off his chair and ran as fast as he could up the stairs, into his room and slammed the door shut.    
  
There was the dragging, whistling sound and Max clutched at his chest. He felt like he was being pressed between two walls, tighter and tighter, and he coughed hard.  _ Breathe. Breathe!  _ He tried but it was like his throat was stuffed full of cotton. He heard the doorknob rattle above his head as he sank down to the floor with his back pressed against it, Aster’s voice muffled. “Max, we don’t lock doors. Open it now, please.”   
  
_ Shit. Shit shit shit.  _   
  
Max pressed his hands over his mouth, trying but failing to stifle his coughing. He wanted to tell her to get the fuck away from him, that it was just a stupid plate and that he didn’t want to talk to her, but his head ached and chest burned for air he couldn’t find. This didn’t feel like a panic attack, he knew what was wrong but he didn’t want to say. He didn’t want the doctors, he didn’t want bitter medicine forced down his throat until he started breathing right and because he lived, he was able to be punished for the hassle.  __ It’ll go away, it has before, it’ll go away...

“Max?” she yanked the doorknob harder. “Max! Are you alright?”   
  
Max dragged his leaden feet under him and tried to stand up. But he never even managed to turn towards the door. He fell forward, wheezing loudly as he gripped his arms around his chest, every short gasp just enough to keep him conscious. Muffled by the door and high pitched ringing, he heard Aster shout, _ “Get back from the door!” _ and then another thunder like crack as she put her boot to it and it crashed open, the door frame splintering loudly and clattering onto the floor in pieces.    
  
He felt her hands grip his shoulders and sit him up, and he weakly tried to pry them away, warbling barely audible curses. “Fuck off.”   
  
“Shush.” she ordered him. He felt like his consciousness was a balloon, slowly drifting up and away from his body and he wanted to close his eyes and let it go. But then Aster was snapping her right hand’s fingers in his face and it jerked him back to alertness. “Stay with me, Max, I need you to keep breathing. In and out. Squeeze my hand,” he felt her fingers grip his and he obeyed her at first. But he felt his fingers strain and slacken, as his vision began to tunnel in fuzzy blackness, like an old cartoon transition. The ceiling of his room was all he could see, then just the blinding light of the fan above and then…   
  
Darkness.

* * *

_ It was so loud, grinding in his ears, rattling his teeth in his skull and Max instinctively tried to block it out with his hands, whimpering. He knew that sound. He knew what it meant.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ When he tried to lift his hands, he felt bigger ones close around his wrists and hold them down, the hard surface of whatever he was laying on registering to him. He arched his back on instinct, gasping to try to drag oxygen through a closing throat but it was almost impossible. And then he felt the cold blade against his back. The voice of death.  _ __   
  


_ “Stop fighting it. This is for your own good.”  _

_ He felt hard plastic bump his lips and he realized what was going on as the mask covered his mouth and nose, and Max threw his head back and forth, managing to shake it off, the gas hissing through it with nowhere for it to go. _ _   
_ _   
_ ** _“No!”_ ** _ he cried out,  _ ** _“Get the fuck of off, let me GO! You’re hurting me!”_ **

_   
_ _ He opened his eyes and they immediately cringed at the lights above, illuminating a dark figure above him. No, Max thought, then out loud.  _ ** _“No! NO! No, I’m not going back! You can’t take me!” _ ** _   
_ _   
_ _ Father’s hands closed down on his shoulders and no matter how Max tried, he couldn’t get free of them. He was trapped. Max panicked. What was Father going to do? Lock him up where David and Gwen would never find him? He wouldn’t let him. Max didn’t know where the surge of ferocity came from, but the next thing he knew, he was leaning forward and sinking his teeth into his father’s forearm as hard as he could. The enraged sound that he made terrified Max to his core, but he just bit down harder. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He only let go when a pain pierced his arm. It  _ ** _burned_ ** _ . He swore he smelled his skin burning and heard it sizzle, and he tried to squirm away but he didn’t have the strength. He started an anguished mantra, calling out desperately with what air he had left in hopes that somehow someone would hear and put a stop to it.  _ ** _“Help! Somebody help me! Dav--”_ ** ** __   
  
**

_ He went silent as his head was manhandled and the mask was secured in place. His whole body felt like lead. He couldn’t get his limbs to move at command anymore, and he couldn’t speak. He obediently inhaled, as much as he was able, and the cobwebs in his lungs began to loosen and he began to feel  _ ** _sleepy_ ** _ .  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ He didn’t know if Father was still there, but he knew better than to look or ask. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Max laid curled up where he was, breathing raggedly and trembling, trying his best to stop crying. He didn’t know how long he stayed that way, trying to breathe and behave, whispering to his teddy bear,  _ ** _“Don’t go to sleep, don’t go to sleep, don’t...bad things happen when you sleep...” _ ** _   
_ _   
_ _ Then he felt a hand sting on his back and Max instinctively screamed out, then tried to hide his face against Mr. Honeynuts, terrified of the repercussions. But no belt came. No rough hands. Just a pretty sound that soothed his pain and tears. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It sounded like a guitar.  _ __   



	3. Chapter 3

David sat down with a huff on the back porch and took off his hat to ruffle his hair free, looking out across the yard with satisfaction. All around the immediate area, a peerless fence had been completed, bright new wood planted firmly in the ground, eight feet high all around. It wasn’t that they suffered for privacy or security when he was growing up, but he wanted Max to have every reason to ease up on the paranoia of being found by his father.   
  
Aster reassured David that there was no way Sunil knew where Max lived. She had done a great deal of investigating at his request, and if she was certain the man didn’t know his son's whereabouts, David was too. But that didn’t stop him from being worried.    
  
Was Sunil really vindictive enough to try to steal back a child he seemed to not even  _ want?  _   
  
In reality, David had no idea what that man was capable of. He only knew if he was evil enough to do the things he did to Max, he should assume the worst and be prepared for it.    
  
David lifted his head out of his contemplation at the sound of glass clinking together and the steady impact of a cane on wood floors. “Careful,” he said worriedly, reaching up to help his grandfather sit down but Adaire waved his cane hand at him. “Bugger off, I’m fine, damn thing just gets stiff in the cold.” he huffed, but he did take a long time to sit on the step, groaning quietly at the strain.    
  
“Here,” he offered one of the bottles to David, who chewed idly on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated accepting it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like alcohol or had a problem with it, he just didn’t have a particular liking for it. Specific circumstances, specific mood and then maybe. “Hard days work, you earned it and I’m not going all the way back.”   
  
_ One can’t hurt.  _ David accepted the bottle and popped the lid off with a fizz, following his grandfather’s lead and knocking their bottles together with a chorus of “ _ Slàinte mhath _ .”   
  


“I dare say this place is ready.” Adaire remarked, looking over at the new sing attached to the maple tree in the center of the yard. He meant to build a platform or house like he had always wanted, but the weather was too cold now and the branches wouldn’t bear the weight until spring. He remembered Aster warning him that tree branches were more brittle in the winter, and he learned the hard way by ignoring her, climbing that same tree and he was on the ground with a broken collar bone, screaming for Granda about five minutes after. Normal kid stuff.    
  
David reached over to his old travel radio and clicked it on, the speaker crackling as he tuned it into the nearby station and it began to softly play acoustic music between them. “I think it is, too...Thanks for helping, Granda. I really mean it, I don’t think it would be half as good if you hadn’t.”   
  
“I agree with ya.”   
  
David rolled his eyes but smiled slightly. It felt good, to just talk normally and sit together like they used to. He hummed quietly along with the music, studying the changing leaves through the tree until Granda broke the silence. “You always had an ear for it, y’know.”   
  
“Sorry?”   
  
“Music. Nice voice, always on key, just came to you naturally. Just like your mom.”   
  
_ Where is this coming from?  _   
  
David just stared at him in disbelief. He hadn’t complimented anything music related for him since he started learning guitar in earnest as a kid, and that was when Granda thought he wasn’t going to do anything serious with it. That was where the divide began. What David considered his calling, his grandfather considered just a hobby. He could see his grandfather fidgeting and avoiding his eyes, which was highly unlike him. He never knew his grandfather to be the nervous type. “D’ya like your new job?”   
  
“Yes…?” David said slowly. “I--I love it. The kids are great, and it’s music all day long and I get to share it. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” He felt like he was defending his choices all over again, waiting for Adaire to criticize them and ruin the day.   
  
But he didn’t. He just nodded and reached over, smoothing his poofy hair for a moment, like he was twelve again and needed a haircut. “As long as you’re happy,” he said, “I’m proud. I know that’s what I should have said to you all those years ago...I hope saying it now still counts.”   
  
“...You’re drunk, aren’t you?”   
  
He couldn’t help it, he grinned when Adaire shoved him playfully and laughed, a  _ real  _ laugh. The kind that came from the belly and was infectious, loud and joyful, the one he grew up hearing and hadn’t heard for so long. David had hardly had two sips of his own beer, but he set it aside when a sound caught his ears. “Hang on, Granda.” he said, getting up and heading back inside the house.   
  
The back door to the yard lead straight into the kitchen and he picked up his cell phone from the counter.  _ Uh oh,  _ he thought as he scrolled through the notifications. Three texts from Victoria, five from Aster and he had missed a call from her. He glanced through the text messages, and felt like a trap door had opened under him and he was plummeting.    
  
_ [Vicky] Hi Davey, are you home from work yet? _ _   
_ _ [Vicky] Just letting you know we’re taking Max to Herrera, wonder if you can meet us there. No need to panic. _ _   
_ _ [Vicky] He’s asked for you. Let me know your status. _   
  
He skimmed through the others, fingers trembling with how rigid they were from terror. He didn’t read the rest from Aster, he just selected her contact and called her as he stood rooted in place. If Max outright asked for him, things had to be bad. The phone rang six times before it was picked up.   
  
_ “This is Chief Tea--” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Is Max okay?! What happened?!” He blurted it out louder than he meant to and realized he just yelled into the phone.    
  
There was a pause, probably because she was leaning away, before she replied.  _ “He had a little episode, but he’s stable. He’s just...in a state. Can you come to Doctor Herrera’s?” _ _   
_ _   
_ “E-episode? Like a panic attack?”   
  
_ “Doc doesn’t think so, and neither do I. He’s not really answering questions. Do you know if he has any respiratory problems? He couldn’t get his breath.” _ _   
_ _   
_ David leaned his elbow on the counter so he could support his head in his hand, trying to sound calm. “He said his parents don’t really take him to the doctor, and he didn’t have any problems like that at camp. H-his dad smokes, does that matter?”   
  
_ “Maybe. Allergies?” _ _   
_ _   
_ “No! Not even to pollen! Can you  _ please  _ tell me what happened? What do you mean by a ‘state’? Can you put him on the phone?”   
  
_ “He just couldn’t get his breath but we couldn’t see why, we’re just erring on the side of caution. As for that, well...he’s resting right now. They had to give him a little bit of something to keep him from getting worse.” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Something?”   
  
_ “To calm him down.” _ _   
_ _   
_ David had to process that last bit for a moment. “You,” he began, his words coming out very slowly and deliberately. “ _ Sedated _ him? That’s probably why he’s so upset, because he’s been  __ drugged!  Do you have any idea what that’s like for him?!”

  
_ “They couldn’t treat him otherwise, it was that or tie him down and I voted for the gentler method.” _ _   
_ _   
_ As much as he trusted her to do the right thing in a tough situation, David couldn’t help but be judgmental. It all stemmed from the urge to protect Max, at all costs...but at the moment, the best way to do that was see him first. “J-just give me ten minutes, I’ll be there. Tell him I’m on my way if you can.”   
  
David hung up and turned to go back outside to tell Adaire where he was going, but his grandfather was already standing there. David yelped loudly and his hand flew up to his heart, as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t.  _ Do  _ that!” he gasped. How did a guy with a clunky cane sneak up on him so much? All the time as a kid, he hid around corners and jumped out at him for a laugh. It was funny back then, but just mean now.   
  
“Everything alright?” Adaire asked. “I heard half of that, it didnae sound good.”   
  
David didn’t have time for this. He headed down the hallway to get his car keys from the dish by the door, “Max needs me, so I’ll be missing dinner.”   
  
“Don’t worry about dinner. Is he okay?”   
  
“I don’t know.  __ They  don’t know, Aster said he couldn’t breathe.” As much as David hated Max was still having them, he wished it was only a panic attack. If it was, it would pass and he would be okay. Couldn’t Max just go a couple of months without being hospitalized? In his haste to get out the door, he dropped his keys and scrambled to pick them up, cursing softly until Adaire came over and placed one calloused hand on his shoulder. “Slow down, Davey. It's getting on into cough season, he probably just has a little cold.”

“A little cold for him is potentially _ dangerous.  _ Max isn’t able to fight off illness like other children, he has—“

“Aster knows how to look after kids. Take a minute to get your head right, then you can get behind the wheel...Why don’t you get your guitar? He likes it when you sing to him, doesn’t he?”

_ Sometimes.  _ David felt that relentless grip of terror in his chest, not wanting to picture the worst. Dr. Herrera warned them that even a little bug or infection could spiral into something severe for Max, and they had to be careful. She didn’t need to get graphic. What was a bad weekend for any other ten year old could be deadly for Max. It was half the reason they decided to homeschool him completely, just in case some other  _ stupid  _ parents dropped the ball in flu season. And Max didn’t have a flu shot yet, they had to space things out for him.

He did get  _ some  _ of his vaccinations, but to say it was an ordeal when he did was an understatement. David had to be called as back up. When he walked into the office, it wasn’t how much Max was screaming or just how obscenely graphic his words were that shocked him, he took Max’s tirades in stride now. 

What upset David was how Max instantly stopped his ranting, jumped up from the corner he had backed himself into and  _ ran  _ straight to David to hug him around the legs, like David was there to rescue him and they would make a grand escape together. He would never forget how Max trembled and got quiet and used him to hide from the doctor, daring her with his eyes to come near him again. It was all David needed to know it wasn’t anger or spite that drove this meltdown; it was fear and nothing more.

He only got the shots when he sat down with Max on his lap and sang to him to distract him, and he was quick to stop Max from punching the doctor. It was over before he knew it, but David took him for cupcakes after just to cheer him up.

Max’s potent fear of doctors and medical settings was plain as day to David, and he couldn’t bear the idea of Max suffering through that fear alone. But his grandfather did have a point. David used the trek to his room to fetch his guitar to calm down and by the time he was at the bottom of the stairs, he did feel much more controlled. His hands were still icy and his heart in his throat, but outwardly he was calm and that was what mattered.    
  


* * *

  
  
  
Since David was registered as Max’s emergency contact if his foster moms weren’t available, it was no hassle to get checked in to visit him. They knew to expect him at the desk, and send him straight on to Max’s room. He walked as fast as he could without actually running, reading the numbers on the doors in the pediatric ward softly to himself until he found the one.    
  
He was just going to walk in but then he saw through the window the state Max was in. He couldn’t see if he was asleep or not through the small rectangle, but he saw there was an oxygen mask on his face.    
  
And seeing that was like a flash of lightning blinding him and David reeled back, his stomach turning at memories. 

The last few weeks. Mom laid up in a white bed with the pallor of her skin graying and ghostly, every desperate ragged gasp she made under a mask that fed her extra air but what was the point? It didn’t  _ matter  _ anymore. Nothing could save her. Every exhale she made had the chance of being the last. And one of them was.   
  
_ Get a grip!  _ He told himself angrily, shaking his head hard and forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand. He had to think clearly. Step one to being a father was as simple as it got;  ** _be there_ ** .    
  
So David straightened his back, put on the best reassuring everything is okay smile he could and stepped into the room unannounced. It wasn’t as quiet as he expected. He could hear someone talking, but when he looked at Aster who was seated across from the foot of the bed, he saw her meet his eyes with her ardent gaze and her lips were still. She gestured subtly to Max, who was turned over onto his side, face to face with his bear, whispering in rapid, panicked words the details of which were too soft to hear. He didn’t even  _ react  _ to David entering the room.    
  
“He’s been like this since treatment,” Aster whispered. “They’re talking about bringing a psychiatrist in, and I don’t know if I can stop it if they want to admit him.”   
  
_ Blood would be drawn. By Max.  _ “Let me try,” David said, and she nodded, then stood up and left the room, the door clicking shut loudly behind her.   
  
Max’s voice silenced for a moment, then he went back to whatever he was doing. David lifted the chair so it didn’t drag loudly on the floor and moved it to his bedside at Max’s back, and sat down. He unzipped the guitar case but let it sit on the floor. “Max?” he asked softly, leaning a hand on the bed so he felt he was there. It used to work, but this time it didn’t. “It’s David.”   
  
Not a peep. Now David was becoming worried Max didn’t even know he was there. Sometimes he became unresponsive after nightmares, but nothing like this; he was at least aware of where he was and who he was with, but now he seemed catatonic.    
  
Desperate, David sat on the bed instead. “Whatever happened, kiddo, I--” he rested his hand on Max’s back.  _ Big  _ mistake.   
  
David jumped back onto his feet, as Max let out a short but not less heart wrenching scream of  _ fear.  _ He watched him curl up tighter and shield his head with one arm over it, trembling, his voice louder but only enough that David could hear the words defined.  _ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no more…no more no more no…”  _ and trailed off back into the mumbling from before. _   
_ _   
_ David felt like crying. For not being more careful, for touching Max where he  _ knew  _ he bore scars from mistreatment, for not considering maybe Max wouldn’t understand he was being touched out of comfort and not violence. That he made it  _ worse  _ for him.    
  
_ It’s your job to make it better. Figure it out. _ _   
_ __   
He quickly sat back in his chair and picked up the guitar, taking a moment to adjust his fingers on the fret and figure out how he even held it again. But he found it, and ran his thumb down the six strings, a quiet chord as he tried to think of a tune. And while thinking he wished Gwen was there to help, with her on his mind, a song came to him and he began a tune. He repeated the intro several times until Max was silent, and he took that as a sign he was listening.    
  
He softly sang the first verse, keeping his voice low and gentle, just like when he was trying to get Max to sleep. By the second, his heart fluttered with hope as blankets rustled and he saw Max slowly turn over and peek at him over the top of Mr. Honeynuts, his green eyes red from stress and crying, breath fogging the inside of the mask. He could hear the soft whistling wheeze, but he blocked it out. He just smiled and kept singing.    
  
**“The heavy rifle bowed me over to the ground**

**Two years I stayed this way until the rifle fell**

**And in this manner for a hundred years I grew**

**All my dreams, not meant to be**

**Then one day two men came with a crosscut saw**

**They spoke of how my arch would hold a weight so strong**

**And I feared not the blade for such a worthy cause**

**And so I fell, I gladly fell…"**

  
  
He watched Max slowly sit up and then back against the pillow, his knees drawn up close as he stayed curled up in that cowering state and the boy looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. 

  
  
David carefully stood up,  **“** **Three winter days aboard a northbound train**

**Three more beneath a hewer's careful blade**

**And while he worked, he praised my rich, red grain**

**Perhaps it was the soldier's blood that day?”**

  
  
Max didn’t flinch as he stepped closer, he just looked up at David in weary astonishment. David sat down on the bed again, face to face with Max, knowing he had his full attention now. He heard him cough as the kid sat up fully, and it made David flinch internally but he never let it halt the music. He slowed the tempo a little and sang just a bit softer.

**“Now I'm the wooden arch that holds a mighty bell**

**Three stocks before me cracked, but I shall never fail**

**Up in a tall cathedral high above my dreams of long ago**

**And on Sunday mornings when I hear that sweet refrain**

**I see the soldier's face like it was yesterday**

**Calling angels down from heaven with that hymn**

**He softly sang,**

**Of God's good grace.”** **   
** **   
** His fingers plucked the outro delicately and he hummed the tune one last time until he let it fade out naturally and the room was almost silent, except for the damn sound of Max’s struggled breaths. The  **worst ** sound. It was right up there with a baby coughing or a chalkboard screech, things that just were revolting to the ears.    
  
But the sound paused to give room for the tiniest,  _ “David?” _

_ Thank God.  _ David smiled, a real giddy smile of relief and joy that Max recognized him. “Hi, Max. Not feeling very good, huh? That’s okay. We’re going to make it better.”

But Max didn’t seem to share the same feeling. He fidgeted his bear and slid deeper under the covers, looking around with exhausted, hooded eyes. He still didn’t seem completely alert. He kept feeling his teddy’s hear between his fingers in a self-soothing manner, and David wanted to reach out and hug him more than anything as Max’s lip began to quiver. But he forced the urge back. “Where is he?” Max asked, his voice barely more than a petrified whisper.    
  
“Where is who, Max?”   
  
“He was here…He hurt me. Is he coming back?”   
  
David’s blood ran cold in his veins and the guitar almost slipped from his fingers but he managed to stop it and lay it down quietly instead. “ **Who** hurt you?” he said, shocking himself with how  _ menacing  _ his tone was.   
  
“Father.” Max’s lip quivered. “He was hurting me again, because I wouldn’t take the medicine.” he hiccuped, rubbing his eyes roughly. It reminded David of when he used to babysit littler kids as a teenager. A toddler would do the same when struggling to nap and they were frustrated and miserable, and that only made it harder to rest. On top of that, his words were slurred together drunkenly and he was alarmingly lethargic; likely from whatever sedative had been given to him. “I  _ tried  _ to stop him, David, but I was too fucking scared and weak…I couldn’t even fight back like you taught me. It all happened  _ again _ .”   
  
_ Oh...Oh, no.  _

_   
_ David didn’t even know what to think. Was his father in Sleepy Peak? Had he found Max? It was his worst fear realized. Sunil was going to try to take Max and hurt him again, or he already had and somehow Max had gotten away from him and David  _ hadn’t been there to protect him.  _ “Max, it was not your fault,  _ please  _ don’t think like that. The only person to blame is him. Where did he hurt you? Did you show the doctor?” He asked gently, and Max shook his head no. First thing to do was make sure Max was okay, then they could deal with the culprit. “Can you show me?”   
  
Max gingerly sat up straighter to tug his sleeve and David leaned closer to look, as Max peeled off a band aid with a wince. “What the hell?” the boy said with a frown. “This-- this isn’t right.”   
  
At first, there seemed to be nothing there but then David realized there was a small, slightly bruised little pin-prick of a red spot near a vein. He’d donated blood and had it tested a few times over the years and whatnot, so he easily recognized it as a recent injection site. “Max, did he do that?”   
  
“No! It shouldn’t look like this! He  __ burned  me, I felt it!”

  
It was starting to come together in pieces, the beginning of an answer. That had to be from the sedative Aster mentioned, but it seemed Max didn’t understand what was happening at the time. His father likely had never been there to begin with. He watched Max keep pressing on the spot and rubbing it, becoming more and more frustrated. “Buddy, stop that.”   
  
“You have to believe me! He was  _ here _ and he’s going to come back! He did this to me, David!” Max’s voice grew steadily higher and more brittle, the way a person’s did when they were on the edge of crying and David finally caved. He moved onto the bed so he could take Max in his arms and cradle him, and this time, Max didn’t fight. No, he clung to David for dear life, begging him repeatedly to believe him. “I’m so sorry this happened, Max.” he murmured after a while, and Max just whispered brokenly. “I can get better, I swear…I’ll be good, I-I don’t need any medicine, okay? I don’t want to sleep anymore.”   
  
But he did sleep. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the sedative was still in his veins, but Max was fighting a losing battle. He barely even finished his last sentence before his eyes closed and his body was limp and his breathing slowed and deepened. When he was sure Max was deeply asleep enough to not notice, he laid him down and left his bedside, as much as it pained him to do it.   
  
David had hit his limit for calm and collected when he stepped outside the door, where he rounded on his godmother who was waiting just outside. “How could you authorize the doctors to  _ drug  _ him?!” he hissed, stomping up until he was face to face with her, not caring about the consequences. He was seeing red at the edges of his vision. He was so sick and tired of Max being sick and tired, he was fed up with him being hurt and scared and having no one to  _ pay for it.  _   
  
Aster calmly held up her arm, where there were bandages wrapped around it. David blinked the bloody haze out of his eyes, “He broke the skin half an inch deep, David. I’ve had worse from puppy dogs, but he did it because he dead to rights thought the doctor and I were trying to hurt him. He was going to asphyxiate if we didn’t take drastic action and I know if it were you, you would have made the same call, so...Step. Back. From. Me.”   
  
He hated how fucking serene her tone was and the lack of expression on her face and body language. The stupid  _ perfectly in control  _ police officer, talking down a lunatic act that made him feel like one because he knew she was right and he knew he needed to calm down. So, he took her advice and stepped back, as much as he didn’t like to. “So you talked to him?” she asked.   
  
“Yes,” he unclenched his fists, knuckles cracking as he did from being squeezed so tight. Now he felt his palms stinging; he must have pierced them a little with his nails but he didn’t care about that now. “Did he say anything helpful?”   
  
“I honestly don’t know. Was he with you all day? You  _ never  _ let him out of your sight?”   
  
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but I knew where he was at all times. We were home. He was writing in his room and then we spent a little time in the yard, then had lunch. We never went anywhere. Why?”   
  
The hardest part was that he believed Aster. If Max ever left the safety of her watch, she would know it, as clever as he was. “He said his father attacked him. He tried to show me where he was hurt, on his arm, but that was where they gave him the sedative, wasn’t it?”   
  
“Here?” Aster asked, gesturing on her own body and David nodded. “That’s correct...There’s no way, David. If Sunil even tried to leave town, I would be the first to know and Max really was home with me all day. There wasn’t another soul with us until we got here, and I drove him here alone.”   
  
David wasn’t both convinced and not. “Max wouldn’t lie about something like that. The fear was real.”   
  
Aster leaned against the wall, flexing her left hand idly the way she did when she was deep in thought. He heard her whisper softly under her breath and he got worried he had lost her to her own mental prison too, but she looked at him again and spoke up. “In his mind, he probably isn’t lying.”   
  
David immediately caught on to her meaning, but he didn’t like the implication at all. He was silent as she elaborated more. 

  
“Max saw, heard and felt what he says he did, even though it wasn’t  _ really  _ what was happening around him. He was already under a huge amount of distress and his fears took over his senses and altered his reality...Maybe. I’m not a therapist, I’m just spewing what I think mine would say. Look, I adore Max and I want the best for him, but  _ you’re  _ his dad.”   
  
David closed his eyes, feeling the urge to argue, not because he didn’t want to be but because he didn’t feel like he was worthy yet. He felt like she was taking it a little far. “Aster--”   
  
“Shut up, you are. Paperwork is processed, he goes to you in fifty days. My point is that from here on out, any big choices I make for his life now? You have to be on board.”   
  
He didn’t like the sound of that. Max seemed so broken down, like David had never seen him before and he couldn’t bear making it any harder for him. “What  _ kind  _ of big change?”   
  
“Something is going on with Max up here,” she tapped her temple with the middle finger of her left hand, which she used in place of a pointer finger since David could remember. “And the three of us aren’t able to take that on alone. I’m going to look into getting him a psych eval, or at least talk to a consultant on what we should do. I know he’ll fight it, but it has to begin somewhere. Promise me you’ll be able to take that over?”   
  
He didn’t want Max to feel like he was a problem being passed off to the next person, but David knew she was right. He blinked back stinging tears and looked up at the ceiling with a deep breath to stay calm. The truth was that Max was so much more scarred by what his parents put him through than David thought possible, and now he had to accept he would only  _ fail  _ Max if he tried to take this obstacle on. He needed a professional. “I promise...Can I take him home with me tonight? I just want to look after him. It’s a Saturday, he can stay with me all weekend if he wants to.”   
  
“If they release him, sure. I’m going to go talk to the doctor.” Aster withdrew and he watched her leave around the corner of the hall, before he slipped back into the room. He could hear the soft whistle of every breath Max took, although much quieter than before. A number of possibilities ran through his head. Pneumonia, bronchitis, a deadly allergy,  _ worse _ . David sat by his bedside again, his elbows on his knees as he tried desperately to recall any memory of Max making that  _ sound  _ during the summer. But he never so much as had a cough, wheeze or sniffle.    
  
David made the mistake of closing his eyes. When he did, he was transported back to a different but similar room, with the same sounds, sitting in the same spot. The noise of ragged breathing that would stop at any moment threatened to drown David and he instinctively reached out and rested his hand on Max’s chest, reassuring himself with every rise and fall that Max was _ still with him _ . He stayed with Max that way for well over an hour, until Dr. Herrera came to talk to him.   
  
“So we’ve ruled out any allergic reaction or illness. It’s pretty straightforward, definitely an asthma attack but fortunately he was very responsive to treatment. My assessment is that it was aggravated by the cold air and stress, so as long as he layers his mouth and nose outside and avoids harsher conditions, he should get through the winter just needing an inhaler on occasion but I’m going to send you home with a nebulizer. As it gets on into the season, I’m concerned he’ll start having a night time cough and we want to keep an extra eye on respiratory infections...Do you want to walk him through using one or would you prefer I do?”   
  
He never answered her question. That was it for David, as soon as the word ‘asthma’ was uttered. He stared at her for a full ten seconds, until Aster said his name but he was already leaving the room to wander the hospital aimlessly in his own state of shock and dread. He didn’t go back until Aster texted him hours later that Max was ready to be released. 


	4. Chapter 4

Not a word was spoken the entire drive.   
  
Max kept looking at David and expecting him to break the silence, but he didn’t so much as turn the radio on to ease it. He pulled his hood up and elected to just stare out the window. _ If he wants to be pissed, fine. What the fuck do I care? _   
  
He’d been trying to make David angry since the day they met, but now that he finally had, Max didn’t find it satisfying at all. He was doing his best not to care, but that was just the thing; he cared too much about not caring and that just nullified the whole thing. By the time they pulled into a driveway he had never seen before, Max had come to grips with the disturbing new fact that he didn’t _like_ David being upset with him anymore. He could feel there was a change in the dynamic, and it was intolerable. Max tried to say something, but as he did, David just turned off the car and got out of the drivers seat. He flinched at the sound of the door clanging shut.   
  
He was sure David didn’t mean it that way, but Max just say where he was until David opened his door for him and picked up his sleep-away bag from the floor at his feet. “Hurry up, it’s too cold out here for you.” David said quietly, not a bit of anger or malice in his voice. Yet the absence of cheer was more damning than it could have been if he had been straight up yelling at Max. “I thought you lived in a crummy apartment?” Max asked, following him up the cobblestone walkway.   
  
“Just while this place was being repaired. I moved back in a little bit ago.”   
  
“How can you afford a house like this?”   
  
“I inherited it.”   
  
His tone was so flat and emotionless that Max was starting to become a little worried. The feeling that something was wrong hung over him all the way up the steps, by then he held his scar closer over his face to muffle a few winded coughs. The porch creaked as David stopped and looked at him, the alarm plain on his face, the first time he had really looked at Max since leaving the hospital. Max hated that look and glared back at him. “I’m _ fine _ . Don’t be stupid.”   
  
“In,” was all David said, guiding him firmly by the collar into the warm interior of the house. Admittedly, it was a relief to get out of the chill. He was tired enough as it was and knew he didn’t have it in him for another fit. Max walked slowly, looking around the house, taking in each detail until one caught his eye. Everything was clean and cozy, but there was a section of the front archway in the hall that was all scratched up.   
  
Not scratches, he realized as he looked closer. They were etched carvings, lines with a date and name next to them. The very first one read _ Davey, 13 months. _ “What are these?”   
  
“Every time I grew a little, my mom marked it there. It’s something a lot of families do. Are you hungry? I can order pizza.”   
  
_ Not my family _ . Max scowled; David had been so much taller than him when _ he _was ten. “I don’t care.”

“I set up my room for you. Do you want to go lay down? Doctor said you might feel pretty weird for a while.”  
  
Max shuffled a foot back from David, further into the house. “I don’t need to sleep,” he said quickly. “Can I just watch T.V or something? You have one, right?”   
  
“Sure, Max.” David sounded more tired than Max felt, if that were even possible. _ What is his _ ** _deal_ ** _ ? _   
  
David walked him to the living room and Max made himself at home on the couch with some blankets and the remote in hand. But he was mostly just flipping through shows while David ordered them dinner, unable to pay attention to anything. He wasn’t sure which he hated more, the actual asthma attack or recuperation after. There was always a soreness in his chest that made his breath hitch when he inhaled, and if he wasn’t careful--   
  
Max lurched forward, his body giving in to spasms as a whole new series of coughs overtook him. It was one of those strings where you just kept going until there was no air left in your lungs to cough anymore, but it kept trying. When it was over, he sat back unhappily and focused on taking deep, deliberate breaths. He heard rapid footsteps come into the room and a minute later, David was leaning over the back of the couch to look over him worriedly. “Are you okay? Make sure you breathe slow--”   
  
“Jesus Christ, David, I know. You don’t need to tell me.” he didn’t mean to bite his head off, especially since it was the first time David was acting close to normal since leaving the hospital, but Max didn’t want this thing drawn out. He just wanted it done, ignored, forgotten. He glared at David for as long as he dared, unnerved by how David stared straight back with the same level of confrontation. It was broken when David promptly dropped a paper bag on his chest, making Max jump. “The fuck is this?”   
  
“Your inhaler. You don’t ever go anywhere without it for now on. I’ve got your spare. I’ll show you how to use it later--”   
  
“I already know how,” And David shot him an interrogative look that made Max just want to disappear. He could sense he was angry about something, but it was a _quiet_ anger and he didn’t know how to predict it. He felt his resolve to be difficult just crumble away into dust and he looked anywhere but at David. “How do you know?” David demanded, his tone polite but Max knew it was just a facade.   
  
He mumbled his answer, thinking David would just let it go but no such luck. “Don’t mumble, Max. This is serious.”   
  
“I had one at home.” He said it just loud enough to hear and no more, the tiny act of rebellion he could manage.   
  
Whatever David’s thought on that was, he didn’t share it. He just seemed to accept the answer and left the room, and Max watched him go from over the top of the couch. He didn’t understand. David always talked to him, no matter what was going on. What had changed? What had Max done to screw that up this time? The silence bled through the house, which began to feel less and less welcoming until the doorbell rang and David left the kitchen to answer it. Max quickly sat back down normally to avoid being noticed.   
  
David silently brought him a plate and napkins, and that was when Max couldn’t take it anymore. On a moment of pure impulse and no second thoughts, he snatched up the unopened bag on the coffee table and chucked it as hard as he could in David’s direction. It bounced off his back and David stopped for a moment with a flinch, as it crumpled to the ground with an anticlimactic sound. “What the fuck is your problem?!” Max seethed, the moment David turned and looked at him directly. “You’re being weird! Look, I get today _ sucked _ and it was fucking rough for both of us, but it wasn’t my fault.”   
  
“I never said it was,” David picked the bag up and started to open it. “Keep your voice down.”   
  
_ Screw self improvement. I’m committing a capital crime tonight. _ “Fuck you, David! Fuck you and your fucking high horse! If you want to _finally_ be mad at me, great. But at least tell me why, tell me what part of any of the shit happened today makes sense for you to be pissed off _ at me _ over!”   
  
By that point, he had stood up on the couch and was holding the back of it for support, just so he could get face to face with David and the calmer David was in the face of his rage, the more it grew. “I’m not mad,” David said, slowly and carefully and Max balled up a fist like he was going to hit him. “I’m disappointed.”   
  
Max was screaming bloody murder on the inside. “That shit doesn’t work on me, asshole!”   
  
“Well, it’s the truth. Because I _ am _ disappointed, Max, I’m disappointed that you knew about this and you chose to hide it from the people who care about you. We agreed that if you had anything about your health going on, you would tell me, remember? I’m good for my word, Max. I expected the same thing from you.”   
  
David may as well have smacked him. It would have hurt less. Max felt all his anger shrivel away into nothing and the creeping monster called guilt began to crawl its way up to replace it. He slowly sat back down on the couch, unable to think of one clever comeback because he didn’t have one and he honestly didn’t think he was in any place to argue. Because David was right. And when David came around the side of the couch and sat down next to him, a cushion apart, he just turned away and curled up against the arm. “Max, this doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore.”   
  
_ Shut up. _   
  
“But something has to change. You can't keep hiding these kinds of things from me! The consequences are too--” 

Max pressed his hands over his ears to try to block it out. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to have a stupid heart-to-heart talk again like a _normal_ family. He wasn't normal. It couldn't help him.   
  
“I just want what’s best for you, Max. That’s all I’ll ever want! But I need you to help me get you there...can you try to meet me halfway, just a little bit?” David put a reassuring hand on his back, and Max didn’t want to do it, but he did anyway. He turned around and smacked it away, and he could see the hurt expression on David’s face but it didn’t stop him from raising his voice. 

  
“I don’t live with you! I live with Aster and Vicky, because you _ fucking left me _ with them! If you really gave a shit, I would live _here_ but I don’t, so whatever happens to me is only your business because I let it be! Just shut up, David! Stop fucking talking, shut the fuck up! _ I don’t need you!” _ _   
_   
Max yelled as loud as he could possibly manage, until his throat gave out and he realized he had overdone it. He felt his chest getting tight again and he waited to see if David said anything, but David wasn’t even looking at him. He had turned away and had his head bowed, looking the most withdrawn Max had ever seen him. Max stepped off the couch carefully and made the mistake of trying to take a deep breath, and it wheezed loudly. “Shit,” he muttered, as David picked his head right up. He was at his side so fast, Max didn’t even have time to move away. “Fuck off!”   
  
“Be quiet, you’ll lose your breath quicker if you talk.” David said it in such a commanding voice, borderline aggressive, that Max snapped his mouth shut almost involuntarily. He watched his former counselor tear open the Walgreens bag and then the box with his inhaler _ . No no no… _ _   
_ _   
_ “I don’t want that,” Max said, as David gave it a few shakes and held it out for him. Despite how much his windpipe hurt, he started to slowly back away from David, who had begun to kneel down close to him but stood back up now that he had to keep up with him. “Max, you won’t be able to breathe, don’t be silly. One puff and it’s already done, easy peasy.”   
  
“Get awa--” This time, when Max tried to yell, his voice dropped to nothing and he doubled over coughing, losing every ounce of air in his lungs as he did. He saw David in his peripheral rushing over, with that stupid concerned face as he knelt down at his side again. No matter how shitty Max was to him, he was there. But one day, he wasn’t going to be. For a week at a time, he already wasn’t. “Just take it slow, I’ll help you. You’re okay, little bear--”   
  
David rested his hand on his shoulder to still him where he was and all Max saw was a hand holding the inhaler in front of his face.   
  
_ Fingers curling over his already strained windpipe, holding him from running away again, mask incoming and there was no way to stop it. It would help him breathe but it would make him sleepy and he didn’t want to go back to sleep. But it was his fault. He woke Father up with his stupid coughing. He didn’t even know he was doing it, but bad things happened after the mask. It made it so hard to wake up, to move, to think. It made him _ ** _forget_ ** _ . _ _   
_ _   
_ In a moment of pure panic, Max balled up his fist and struck out desperately, a fully cocked right hook and it connected with something, both soft and hard. He heard a clack and a yelp and opened his eyes, expecting a dark skinned, bearded face with cruel eyes but it was not so.   
  
David was holding his hand over his mouth, reeled back slightly, his eyes wide in surprise and pain. He looked down at his hand inquisitively and Max felt sick. His bottom lip was split open and bleeding, after taking a full punch right in the teeth. Max’s hand hurt, but he didn’t care. He had really done it now. It was over. It was the last straw.   
  
Whatever David said, whatever he was going to do, Max didn’t wait to find out. He turned right around and bolted blindly through the unfamiliar house, clambering up a creaky set of wood stairs, into the first door he found and he slammed it shut. There was no lock on it, so Max just sat down on the floor against it, stupidly hoping his weight would keep it from opening.   
  
He flinched with a little cry as the door vibrated with two soft knocks. “Max?”   
  
Max pulled his collar up over his mouth, unable to see through his welling eyes.   
  
“Kiddo, I’m not mad, I promise. I’m sorry I scared you, if that’s what happened…”   
  
_ Give up! Why won’t you just give up?! That’s what you’re _ ** _supposed _ ** _ to do! _ _   
_   
“I’m going to leave your inhaler out here with the instructions and then I’ll leave you alone for a bit. I’ll bring your dinner up. You can just hang out up here...Max? Max, please say something so I know you’re okay.”   
  
“Just leave me alone,” Max croaked, unable to manage anything more. Only when the retreating footsteps faded entirely did he open the door and dare to pull the objects left behind in with him.  
  
_ What's wrong with me? I'm going crazy. What's wrong with me? What's wrong..._  
  


* * *

When he checked back some time later, David found the plate of pizza completely untouched in the hallway and his heart sank. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain the busted face to his coworkers or the kids, probably make something up about tripping to avoid any hassle. And he was the tiniest bit proud of Max for how solid that punch was. If David had been a bad guy, Max would’ve handled it like a champ.

  
But he hadn’t been. He was just trying to help Max with an asthma attack. What had set him off? Touching him? He made sure not to touch his back that time. 

_ No _ , he thought solemnly. _ It’s the inhaler, that’s what escalated it. Max, what about it scares you so much? _

Part of David was scared he had overstepped. Trying to discipline Max, _ actually discipline _ was strange and foreign. It was different at camp, when he had just been his camper and David thought he had to abide by the delicate boundary of _ I’m not his parent, it’s not my right. _ Now that boundary was wiped away but David didn’t feel completely confident at rising to the new demand. What if all he had done was scare Max? He made sure not to yell, that was key and he wasn’t truly angry, just frustrated and _ yes, _disappointed. Whatever he had done wrong, it was enough that Max felt he had to physically defend himself.

He picked up the plate and anxiously knocked on the door. He hadn’t heard any coughing for a while. “Max? I think you should eat something, it’s your bedtime. Now or never.”

No reply. 

David knocked a bit louder but it was silent on the other side. Finally, he cracked the door just a little to peek through, since it didn’t even lock. It was only his office; the only things there were books, a keyboard set up in the corner and his desk, along with the things that went with it. The light was on, but it still took David a moment to spot Max, who was curled up in a less than comfortable looking position in his desk chair, head dropped into his hand, elbow on the warm, a book open but resting page side against his chest. “Max?” He whispered but he didn’t even stir.

_ Poor little guy, he has to be so exhausted. I know I am. _

He gently took the book away and glanced at the title.  _ The Last Highlander Rebellion. _ Not light reading by any means. It went into extravagant and gory detail of the last Jacobite uprising in 1745, and although it was more or less historically accurate, it was more graphic with the battlefield recounts than David would like if Max was reading it. David set it aside and gingerly picked Max up under his arms, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. He stirred and coughed slightly and David stiffened, but Max stayed asleep. 

He remembered Dr. Herrera’s advice. _ Coughing through the night is normal, only soothe him or wake him if he starts having real trouble breathing. _ No different than what he learned to do for his mother. He remembered shaking her awake the last two years when she started wheezing and choking in her sleep, then miserably patting her back as she coughed up the foul liquid in her lungs. And then _ she _ comforted _ him _back to sleep. 

But this wasn’t the same. It was a tiny fit, not even three seconds long, and he carried him out of the office with ease. Not ready for Max to learn the truth yet, despite all he had said earlier (David didn’t want him to feel guilty), he instead tucked Max into his own bed just like the summer. He made sure to nestle him in with his bear and quilt, to plug in his sound machine and only turn off half the lights and to leave the door half open. Every tiny detail mattered. 

David stayed with him for almost a half hour, and when Max seemed properly out, he braved leaving his side and going back downstairs. He settled in on the couch after turning all the other lights off and locking up, but he must have laid there in the dark for an hour before he gave up with a miserable groan. Despite how tired he was, sleep just wouldn’t come. 

He rolled over and checked his phone, seeing a text from Aster. 

_ [8:23 pm Aster] Hey do you know if Max has a rabies shot? _

_ [9:02 pm Aster] That was a joke _

_ [9:45 pm Aster] Give that little twit a good night kiss for us if he’ll let you, and get some rest yourself. Talk tomorrow. It’s going to turn out right, you’ll see. xoxo _

He didn’t know what to say back. It felt like he wasn’t allowed to reach out in the weighted darkness, as he just scrolled idly through other messages until his unconsciously hovered his thumb over one contact. 

** _CBFL (GWEN)_ **

Purely on a whim and a feeble hope, he hit the call button and listened to it ring until the line was picked up. 

_ “Dude, isn’t it past your bedtime?” _

He smiled softly, relaxing more against the cushions than before. God, he didn’t know how badly he needed to hear her voice until he did. “I couldn’t sleep.” He said quietly, afraid his voice would carry upstairs and wake Max. 

_ “Bad day?” _

“To be honest, yes.”

_ “I just got off work, tell me all about it when I’m settled in.” _

He told her in comfortable hushed conversation all about what had happened that day, in as much detail as he was able to manage, including the incident with Max biting Aster in what he _ thought _was self defense and the secondary incident when he knocked David good enough to draw blood. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have scolded him.” David said, making his way back to the couch with a cup of tea, anything to help with the nerves. “It’s just...that’s going to be my job soon, teaching him right from wrong. If I don’t figure this out—“

_ “That’s _ ** _been _ ** _ your job. Or did you forget the last five months of your life?” _

“This is different. It’s going to be his home life, it’s going to affect him permanently and— and I don’t know if I can help him with what he’s already dealing with. Aster is getting his a psychological evaluation, he doesn’t know yet but you can only guess how he’s going to take that.”

_ “Take it from someone with the experience; don’t do anything extreme. Unless he’s literally a danger to himself or others, you chill the fuck out and roll with it. Don’t start admitting him to in-patient programs and putting him on medication from the get go.” _

David was stunned. She sounded more worked up than him. “I...wasn’t _ going _to...Is that what your parents did?”

_ “Yee-up.” _she said, with empty enthusiasm. 

“I’m sorry, Gwen. That sounds terrible.”

_ “Yeah, it was. I know it came from a good place and I forgave them a long time ago, but the point stands. How are his nightmares?” _

“Better. Vicky and Aster said Winifred helps him so much, he sleeps through almost every night with her and they’re practically joined at the hip. Did you see the pictures I sent?”

Gwen laughed sleepily and it made the knot in his heart loosen, _ “He’s so tiny next to that slobber monster. Made my day...I miss that little shit.” _

“One more month and a week to go. He misses you, too.”

_ “How do you feel about dogs, David? Like having one.” _

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted, unsure of where she was coming from. “I love dogs, and cats and all, but my apartment didn’t allow pets.”

_ “You have a house now, though.” _

“And I’m going to have Max here soon,” he could sense the direction she was going.

_ “Who has made a huge turn around because of unconditional doggy love. All I’m saying is that therapy dogs do a lot for kids like Max and his birthday is coming up.” _

“He _ would _love it. And Aster says he takes great care of Winifred, so he’s already proven responsible...I-I don’t know, Gwen. I’ll wait to hear what the doctor says and then decide.”

_ “Sure. Just wanted to throw it out there...feeling better?” _

David was still worried about Max and about a thousand other things, but he did feel _ calmer. _ At least enough that he could close his eyes and take another run at falling asleep. Honestly, he missed the cabin. He missed the sound of her quiet breathing across the room, her contemplative mumbling as she talked to herself while writing and just...sharing a space with someone. Living alone didn’t feel natural anymore.   
  
But he didn’t tell her any of that. He kept it short and simple. “Much. Thanks, Gwen.”

_ “Any time. I’m going to crash. Talk to you soon?” _

  
“Looking forward to it.”   
  
David set his phone on the coffee table and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder, closing his eyes with his arms folded over his chest. He drifted in and out of a deep rest, occasionally roused from it when he heard feeble coughing descending the stairs, the middle step squeaking as a foot stepped down on it, followed by a strained, “ _ Dammit _ .”   
  
He rubbed his eyes quickly, and sat up, now as wide awake as ever. And sure enough, Max came shuffling to the archway into the living room and peeked around the frame, holding his chest with one hand. David winced in sympathy at how sharply he wheezed, knowing he was probably in pain. “David?”   
  
“I’m up.”   
  
Max stayed where he was, hesitating until David bridged the gap and gestured in the gloom. “C’mere, it’s okay.” And to his delight, reaffirming his hope, Max did as he said. He kept his head down and walked slowly, ashamedly, but it was still better than nothing. David turned on the T.V, but muted so they weren’t in complete darkness. And when he did, Max looked up at him, then immediately his eyes went wide and he leaned back. “Holy shit, your _ face…!” _ _   
_   
“I have had way worse, trust me.” David reassured him but Max just looked down again, as silent as he was able to be. “Sit with me?” David asked after a bit and Max surprised him by climbing up on the couch and sitting cross legged, head still down. “We were talking about your mom.”   
  
David could swear the air in the room dropped ten degrees. Max just opened the conversation like that, wincing and rubbing his chest, trying to ease the sore pain that was going to stay for a while. David knew. His mom tried to hide it, but he knew. “And she was only twenty six, and you’re twenty four and I started thinking...You’re-- you’re the one of the _ only _ people I know who’s actually good. But if you’re going to get sick-- what’s the point? Everyone leaves, even if they don’t want to. You can make promises and mean them, but you can’t know that you’ll be able to keep them. We don’t matter, the things we do don’t matter, because eventually we’re all going to be gone. When my father’s right,” Max leaned against the back of the couch, curling up, which was the last thing he should be doing. “He’s right,” he whispered with such finality.   
  
David never wanted him to know if he could have helped it. He wished that if things turned out how he so desperately wanted them to, he would be able to wait until Max was older. But he knew now. He knew how his mother was taken from this world, and he knew the chances. But he’s got it mixed up. “Is that what started all of this? You’re scared I’m going to get sick?” he asked gently and Max nodded once. “Oh, Maxie, that’s not how it works. It’s not a disease that hides and pops out of the blue, it builds over your life.”   
  
“But your mom--”   
  
“My mother,” it hurt to talk about it. It hurt more than his skin being freshly carved into, but David didn’t show it. “Had health problems that started when she was even littler than you. It just took a long time to show how bad they really were. Max, I swear I don’t have it.”   
  
“But Gwen said you get tested for it!”   
  
“I _ used _ to, until it was confirmed I’m only a carrier.”   
  
“What does that mean?”   
  
He held his arms out to Max with a gentle smile, and Max looked at him warily before he crawled over into them and let David set him on his lap, cuddling his head under his chin like so many times before to soothe away bad dreams or restlessness. One day, Max was going to be too big for this; David couldn’t even think about that. “It means if I have my own kids, I’ll pass on the chance of them getting sick.” he said, worrying over how the wheezing seemed to be getting stronger. Not rapidly, but he could feel Max straining more and more, even if the boy didn’t realize it himself. “That’s why I’ve always wanted to adopt. But we can talk about all this stuff tomorrow. Right now, you need your nebulizer and some sleep and in the morning, we can go get pancakes like every Sunday.”   
  
This time, no punches were thrown. David set up the nebulizer and let Max hold it on his own, but kept him on his lap and rubbed soothing circles on his chest to help with the discomfort. Max wasn’t happy about it by any means, and at first questioned where the mask was, “Masks are for babies, this is a big kid one.” David had joked, but over all, it went pretty smoothly.   
  
After that, David waited for him to fall back asleep before he tucked Max back into bed for the second and final time that night, accepting he wasn’t getting any rest himself that night. But he wasn’t upset. There were worse things.


	5. Final Chapter

The next morning, Max dragged himself out of bed despite every muscle in his body begging him to stay still, all of them tense from sleeping in David’s shitty desk chair. But he had skipped dinner the night before and was _starving_. It was the monstrous growling of his stomach that had woken him up.   
  
He debated asking David to make him breakfast, as he half stumbled his way down the noisy stairs, holding the railing for support. The stairwell was narrower than he remembered in the dim daylight that filtered through the windows on the east side of the house, gray and colorless. One of those potato, ham and cheese omelettes sounded awesome, drowned in hot sauce, but he didn’t think David would be willing. At best, he’d get a bowl of cereal and not even the fun kind, but something  healthy . _Disgusting_. Or maybe Vicky’s nutella crepes or Aster’s weird British breakfasts that were shockingly good, like beans on toast or that black pudding sausage she took hours to make that one time…   
  
_ Focus _ , he thought, starting his way into the kitchen and heading to the fridge first. He opened it, and stared at the scarce products inside. But the longer he looked, the more his head hurt. He didn’t know what any of them were, and the labels made no sense, so he just closed the fridge loudly and looked over into the living room. David was normally a light sleeper; coming down the stairs would have been enough to wake up, and slamming the fridge definitely would have.   
  
Max bumped a chair on his way out for extra measure, hoping to passive aggressively guilt David awake for some food since he wasn’t allowed to use the fucking stove. Like a  _ child _ .  ** _Bullshit_ ** .   
  
He leaned over the couch but David looked like he was sleeping. His features and body still, his eyes closed, not looking necessarily peaceful but away from the world nonetheless. “Wake up, asshole,” Max yanked his pillow out from under his head, which just fell stiffly against the couch arm as a result. Now he was starting to feel nervous. “Hey! Aren’t you a fucking morning person? Get up already!”   
  
When David still didn’t react, Max scurried around the couch and shook him by the shoulder, struggling to budge the heavier person. And then he felt it; no warmth under his fingers.  _ Cold _ .    
  
“David?” he asked, quieter this time. He pushed his shoulder again, and when that obviously didn’t help, he pulled his hand back and gave David the most half hearted slap on the cheek ever. It was pathetic. There was no strength behind it, like he was doing it through water. “David, wake up. This isn’t funny.”    
  
He hit him two more times and shook him and shouted in his ear, pulled his blanket off, tried everything until he just climbed onto the couch next to him. He felt revolted as he slipped under the cold arm and put his ear to David’s chest, but there was no calming, warm heart beat there.  _ Wake up, wake up, please wake up,  _ he begged as he got off the couch, making one last effort to pull on David’s hand to summon him back.  _ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, please just come back! _ _   
_ __   
It was a sick cosmic joke. Max couldn’t just be honest about how he felt, and the universe took him at his word.    
  
**“You said it yourself.”**

  
Max’s blood ran like ice water through his body and he held David’s hand tighter out of pure desperate instinct, because who else would save him except David? But...there wasn't any David anymore.   


**“You didn’t need him.”**

  
He didn’t dare turn around to the familiar voice, as he knelt down, whispering as loud as he could possibly manage. “You promised, you gotta wake up now, you promised--”   
  
**“Don’t be sad, Maximos.”** Max felt the hand rest on his head, but not in the comforting manner David or Gwen’s would, petting his black trusses with gentle fingers. He tried to run a split second too late before Sunil had a fistful of his hair and he wasn’t going to let Max go anywhere.  **“You can forget this, too.”**   
  
It hurt, being dragged by the scalp and it hurt more to resist it but Max did anyway, kicking and screaming silently as he was pulled backwards away. David, the house, the trees, they were all swallowed up by darkness. Max kept trying to scream, but only a breathless rasp came out as his voice deserted him and his body felt weak, powerless to get free. In the darkness, white pierced the corners of his eyes, horribly pure and bright, the rectangular shape of an opening that yielded to solid walls and floors. It felt so hot, Max could hardly breathe or think straight anymore, his vision growing cloudy. He could hear angelic music and low, intense voices set in the perfect tone that just perforated his ears despite any attempts to block it out. And then there was the gas-like hissing. But no horrific detail came as a surprise to Max. The voice was there again, warning him plaintively.   
_   
_ _Why do I remember this?_ He had never been here before. But he knew it somehow what this room was for. It reminded him of that day at camp, that  _ had  _ to be it. He would be locked in here for as long as he could survive it, and when Max came back out, he would be changed.   
  
His father dropped him on the ground and Max staggered upright but not fast enough before a sound his body knew but brain did not seemed to just knock him to his knees. __ The sound of the door sealing. He knew no sound would pass it; nobody would hear him, or the things that happened in there to him.   
**   
** **“I can fix you again and again, Maximos. That is something you will never forget.”**

**   
** **   
**

* * *

**   
** **   
** Max threw himself upright so fast, he felt something in his back twinge painfully at the strain but he didn’t care. He gulped down air as best as he could manage, coughing and gasping, searching blindly with his hand until he found the pillow he had knocked aside. When he had it, he fell face first against it and sank his teeth into the fabric, finally letting out the scream he couldn’t in the nightmare. It was muffled, but he felt a little better after, if there was any difference at all.   
  
But then he needed to breathe, so he sat up, trembling and shaking as he tried to remind himself of where he was. But this place was unfamiliar, too. This wasn’t the chair he had fallen asleep in. This was a big bed and he was tucked under a heavy comforter, and he could see there was a familiar guitar on a stand in the corner. Already, most of the dream was becoming fuzzy, like flakes of ash dissolving in the air. Only snippets of it remained, and he knew the rest was in there somewhere, but it hurt too much to go digging in his head for them. But what he did try to remember was how he got from the office chair to this bed.   
  
_ He carried me, _ Max realized.  _   
_

Even after all of that, David took the time to tuck him in. David still cared, he still did the kind thing even though Max probably didn’t deserve it. But when the chips were down, Max acted exactly like his own parents. He became detached and cruel, and lashed out at anyone he could for his own cheap gratification. 

“Oh my god,” he closed his eyes and dropped his head, putting his face in his hands. “I’m such a piece of  _ shit _ .”   
  
He didn’t cry. He refused to, because he wasn’t the victim, he was the bully and the bully didn’t get to blubber over what happened. But he did feel the signs. He was walking the razor’s edge to another asthma attack, and he had a choice. Either try his strategy from before, stupidly try to ignore it or suffer through, or he could do the smart thing. He ignored shaky legs and insidious voices just next to his ears that he knew not to turn and look for. He climbed off the bed, and made one more journey down the stairs.

* * *

  
  
It was the easiest Max breathed in a whole day, physically and emotionally. He watched, sitting upright in bed, as David went around setting his sound machine back up and getting the lights and door just right, everything Max had added to his nightly routine over the months. No matter how tedious, David never seemed to mind. “Pancakes tomorrow?” Max asked, as David came back over and signaled him to lay flat, which he did and David pulled the blanket back up over him. “Pancakes tomorrow,” David agreed. “Warm enough?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Got your bear and blanket?”   
  
“Mmhm.” Max gave Mr. Honeynuts a squeeze with one arm, idly feeling a soft corner of the quilt with the other.    
  
“I think you’re going to be okay for the rest of the night but just in case, I’m going to stay. Is that alright?”   
  
Max sank back deep into the soft pillows, feeling almost swaddled but it was comforting. The bed and house were new, but not foreign. The textures and smells were as familiar to him as his own room. “You’re not Winnie but you’ll do.” he joked weakly and he saw David smile before he closed his eyes.    
  
The next morning, for real this time, David woke Max so he could get washed up and dressed before they resumed their regular routine. It was comforting that this late Sunday morning was no different from the others, regardless of how the Saturday had gone. It remained one of the few constants that got Max through every week. No matter how crazy or bad things got, he just had to make it to Sunday morning.   
  
Now that it was colder out, Vicky and Aster had stocked him up on warmer clothes and Max elected for one of the many knit sweaters they had gotten him. It wasn’t a hoody, but it was heavy and warm, and made him feel secure anyway. Plus, it was blue and that was always a bonus. He wondered what Vicky’s favorite color was, then settled on the answer ‘all of them’. Aster probably liked camouflage, which wasn’t a color, but whatever.   
  
“Is the car warmed up?” he asked, tugging his boots on and starting towards the door.   
  
“Yep, but hang on. I don’t want you breathing in that chill,” David pulled him away by the back of his coat gently and Max made a show of rolling his eyes and being limply uncooperative, but he was gradually starting to like being fussed over. David tugged a hat down over his ears and wrapped his long green scarf two times over his mouth and nose, then tucked the ends into the front of his coat securely. “Can we go now?” he asked, his voice comically muffled.    
  
“Yeah, just--” Max hurried out the door and David yelled after him, “Don’t  _ run! _ ”   
  
This time, although they weren’t very chatty, the car ride was comfortably noisy. David let Max pick the music and David annoyingly sang along, even got Max to join in under his breath. David would never know. But the pancake house was a short drive away, and David was shooing him inside out of the cold minutes later, where their usual table was waiting. They never reserved it, but the staff kept it open for them anyways as regulars. They sat down and Max wrestled the scarf and layers off, while David ordered their usual food. “No hot chocolate, it’s breakfast. You can have one on the way out.”   
  
“But I’m sick.” Max feigned a cough and David made a point of holding eye contact as he handed the menus back to their waiter.  _ Worth a shot.  _ “Am I staying over tonight, too?”   
  
“If you really want to you can, but you have to get up extra early so I can drop you on my way to work.”   
  
“Ughh….”   
  
“You can even stay in your room if you want, but you have to help me finish it today.”   
  
_ My room? _ Max looked up from his phone, baffled. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“Well, I’ve been fixing up and renovating the place since I moved back in and I set up a room for you if you ever stayed over for a while. Sleepy Peak is your home now, after all. This is how life is going to be for a long time.” David explained and Max could see he was a little nervous but a hopeful kind of nervous. “I still have to get covers for your bed and I wanted to take you to pick out some things today.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Max slouched forward with his face in his hands. “You don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

“Max--”

“It’s really nice of you,” it really was and Max wished he wasn’t fighting how happy he really felt about the gesture, the physical evidence of proof that David really did want him around. But he wanted to be practical. “But you can't predict the future, David. You don’t know if any of this will last, I don’t know either but...I’m happy right now. So let’s just stick with the present.”

He could feel David’s eyes on him, sense his doubt and disagreement but in the end, as their food arrived, he didn’t argue. “Well, at  _ present,  _ we’re having M&M pancakes and then we’re going to go pick out some cool covers for  _ your  _ bed you’re sleeping in tonight. Does that sound like something you can manage?”

_ Meeting halfway _ . Max eventually nodded and tucked into his breakfast, remembering full force just how hungry he was. They mostly ate in comfortable silence, only talking when it felt natural, although at one point Max was concerned that David was having coffee instead of his usual tea or water. He did drown it in cream and sugar, but still. He never drank caffeine.   
  
Max felt that now all too familiar stab of guilt in his gut. Had David stayed up all night on his behalf?    
  
David did buy him a hot chocolate on the way out before they began walking the storefronts along the street, the very same where Gwen got him his first new shoes in a long time and where they got him ice cream after that awful day in the hospital. It was still awkward for Max to pick out and ask for things, rather than just demand or steal them like at the start of summer, but it was easier after months of encouragement. Max picked out some covers with a quilt pattern. Some squares were solid blue, others patterned and some had silhouettes of walking bears. They stocked the cart up with a few posters he liked, some soft twinkle lights and hooks to hang them with, and David even grabbed a few packages of glow-in-the-dark stars. As they carried their hoard back to the car and Max fixed his scarf, but not as well as David could, he asked, “Are we going back now?”   
  
“Not quite. Let’s swing by Vicky’s first, I’ve got something to show you.”   
  


He wasn’t sure he wanted to see his foster moms just yet. He had attacked one of them, hurt her, and now they probably thought he was crazy. But he accepted David’s offered hand and followed him the three blocks, and Max’s heart fluttered when he heard the familiar happy muted _ boof! boof! _ as they entered the building. “Winnie!” he whispered joyfully, letting go of David’s hand and dropping down to hug her as she bounded up to him and sniffed him all over, whining the loudest he had ever heard her. “I’m okay, girl, see? I’m okay,” he told her softly, rubbing her ears and not caring one bit as she gave him wet kisses all over his face and hands. “I missed you, too.”    
  
“MAX!”    
  
“Aw, shit.”   
  
Next thing he knew, he was swept up in a whirlwind of jingling bracelets and puffy hair, as Vicky came running out of the back room and squashed him in a hug on sight. He squirmed unhappily, until he was able to wriggle free but he didn’t escape her clapping his face in her hands and looking him all over with her wide eyes. “You poor thing, I can’t believe it! Oh, I’ve been so  _ worried-- _ ”   
  
“Jesus Christ, space, Vicky.  _ Space!” _ _   
_ _   
_ “Oopsie, sorry.” she let him go, still smiling and overstepped one more time to fix the front of his hair before he lurched back with a growl. David returned with two individual flowers. They looked like daisies or dahlias, Max couldn’t tell but Vicky’s demeanor immediately became more serious. “Oh, dear...Hello, Davey. Going over there today?”   
  
“Yup. I think it’ll be good for Max. Is it okay if I bring him back tomorrow morning? It’s another sleepover today.”   
  
Vicky pursed her lips and tucked her shawl a little more neatly around herself, “If that’s what he wants, but I’m going to miss my  _ Kitchen Nightmares _ buddy.”   
  
“You won’t watch without me, right?” Max asked, not that he _really_ cared.   
  
“Of course not. Aster is taking the night off for you tomorrow, she’s going to make shepherd’s pie.”   
  
“Aw. I want shepherd’s pie,” David pouted.   
  
“Get in line,” Max gave Winnie a few more pats and wished he could take her with him, but he wanted Vicky to have some company. Aster was an utter workaholic and her job was so demanding, but if she was willing to take a break for Max’s sake…   
  
He better start working on a _very_ good apology.   
  
As they left the store and got back into the car, Max watched through his window as Winifred watched back and waved goodbye to her into they turned the corner. “She’s your best friend, huh?” David asked.   
  
“I never had a pet before. I know she’s not _mine_ but…” Max sat down properly again before David could scold him. “She makes me feel safer. I think she’d rip the face off of anyone that messed with me.”   
  
“Haha, it would not be the first time that was put to the test.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Not everyone in town is very opened minded about two women getting married and raising kids together...Sometimes they got harassed a little bit, but Winifred always kept that house safe.”   
  
“Seriously? Who would be stupid enough to piss of Aster?”   
  
“People who are stupid enough to judge love they don’t understand.”   
  
“...But it doesn’t bother you, right? You were raised Catholic. Doesn’t Catholicism say gay people are bad or some shit?” Not that David ever gave him any reason to believe he would be prejudiced. Max didn't even really know about gay people and all the rest until camp, or at least he didn't understand it until then. His parents never talked about it, and going to conservative private schools didn't leave much room for it to come up. Over all? Max thought when it came to horrible irredeemable traits in a human being, having feelings for someone of the same gender was not even on the list. People's priorities on morality were fucked up.   
  
“I listened to my mother more than a preacher, Max, and she went to more than her fair share of rights rallies. She even organized some, actually. My grandad is a little backwards on it, I mean, he’s nice to them and supportive in his own way but...ugh. Room for improvement.”   
  
“That’s just old people,” Max snorted.   
  
“No,” David said wearily, “It’s just Grandad. Trust me.”   
  
“Are things...better? With him?”   
  
David didn’t answer for a while, as he turned the radio down slightly and turned into a large parking lot at the central part of town, the main park. “He’s trying, and I’m trying and that helps. Maybe you can even meet him sometime soon. He wants to meet you.”   
  
Max looked up in surprise, as David turned the car off and then reached back to fix his scarf, which Max leaned forward helpfully for. “You tell him about me?”   
  
“Sure I do.”   
  
“What do you say?”   
  
They got out of the car together and David started leading him down the main paved path, where people rode their bikes and walked their dogs, but it was empty save for the occasional parent walking a stroller or jogger with headphones in. “I tell him about a kid who’s the most important person in my life. I tell him how proud I am of you and I ask him for advice sometimes when I’m not sure how to help, because you two are kind of alike in some ways and he does give decent advice sometimes. I...I talked to him when we learned about how things were,” Max slowed down a bit but David took his hand to help him keep pace. “With your parents.”   
  
“What’d he say?”   
  
“Uh, he tried to convince me to have a ‘reasonable conversation’ with your father, which really means just showing up at his house and beating him up. And when I said no, we’re going to do this legally, he volunteered to do it himself because he’s old and nobody is going to put him in prison, which makes  _ no sense  _ but whatever…”   
  
“He sounds pretty cool.”   
  
“No, Max.”   
  
“Cooler than you.”   
  
“No.”   
  
They kept walking towards the very center of the park, through beautiful trees and sculptures with plaques on them, clusters of gardens and picnic tables, until they came to a structure, a marble obelisk with a flat top. _   
_   
Max recognized it from the picture Neil had shown him months ago and he realized the little lines he had seen then weren’t actually lines. They were all names and dates, each ending in the year 1984. They were like those carved on the stones in the Rowntree family plot. Max could see remnants of candles, flowers, pictures and more scattered around it. Even now, people were paying their respects. “...I know what this is,” Max said, not wanting to step any closer. His feet felt weighed where they were. “Why are we here?”   
  
“I was thinking about the things you said last night, and I wanted to show you something. See that name? Terrin Whittaker,” David pointed to the name at the very top, and Max squinted to read it, saying nothing. “He was a kindergarten teacher. He loved books and trips to the library with his wife, who he loved more than anything in the whole world. He wasn’t a soldier or a cop, he had never fought or learned to fight. But he stepped between danger and the person he loved most, to save her. He  _ chose  _ to give his life for another.”   
  
He handed one of the flowers to Max. “Because of him, I got to know my godmother. And she got to find love again and raise kids like you and do good things for others, to make the best of the life she has. Life is temporary, Max, but it’s still precious.”   
  
It didn’t take long to put two and two together and when he did, he finally remembered the name of these autumn blooms that were all shades of vibrant red and creamy orange at the ends of their petals.  _ Asters _ . Max stared up at the name, unable to picture a face or form to put to it. Only his foster mother came to mind. And then his eyes wandered all the other names, too many for him to comprehend at a glance.  _ All of these people were killed,  _ he thought as he laid the flower down next to David’s. _ But Aster survived. David’s  _ ** _parents _ ** __ survived . 

“Your father is  _ wrong _ . Our lives have meaning, even if they don’t last. They’re made worth living by how we affect the world around us with our actions and by our relationships with the people we share it with. If your father can’t understand that, then nobody is going to remember him when he’s gone and that will be his own fault.”   
  
He remembered his own words, to his friends.  _ Trying to go through life all on your own is stupid.  _ But it was hard to believe in himself, in his own teachings. It just felt whatever he said or did or tried, it would be corrupted by his origins. “I’ll remember him.” he said, his voice hoarse in a throat constricted by doubt.   
  
“As a bad memory,” David argued, holding his hand a little tighter. “That you get to leave behind. It’s going to take time and work, but I promise that’s all he’s going to be someday, Max. And I know how hard it is to let people be close when you’re so afraid to lose them. H-how do you think I felt, every time you were in danger or in the hospital? I was so scared of the worst.”   
_   
_ _ That’s all I do, _ Max thought darkly.  _ I make people around me miserable. The only fucking skill my parents passed down to me.  _

David knelt down in front of him, holding him by both hands now but Max just stared at the ground. “One thing my grandfather taught me that I’m grateful for is that even though he misses my mom, his _ only daughter _ , so much but he told me that he would rather feel that pain again and again than live a life where she didn’t exist. He told me that love is worth the loss."   
  
Max didn’t know how to comprehend it. Nobody had ever wanted to keep him, so nobody had ever been scared to lose him. His own mother gave him away when she finally got the chance and his father wished he was never born and he knew that because he had told him so. Max  spent a summer trying to take out every belt lash, every cigarette burn, every slap and cruel word and hour spent alone and forgotten on this man. And instead of continuing that cycle, David went against the current and helped him. 

“But why?” he asked, his voice trembling. “I don’t deserve it, any of it. My own room and fucking Sunday morning pancakes and stupid family dinner. I ruin everything I touch, David, I hurt everyone I meet. I’m just like him. People like my parents, people like _me_ should be alone, the rest of the world would be better off.”   
  
“Max, are you kidding me? You’re not anything like Sunil!”   
  
Max flinched at the mention of his name. It gave the monster in his nightmares too much substance. “Hey,” and he froze up as David took his face in his hands, cradling it so they were eye to eye. “You’re not. Would your father come with me to visit my mom and hug me when I cried?”   
  
“No…?”   
  
“Would your father cuddle with Winnie every night or cheer up his friends when they’re sad or work so hard to make Gwen proud?”

“No. He wouldn’t care about any of that stuff.”   
  
“Would your dad make a smiley face on his pancakes with whipped cream?” David smiled and Max had to fight with all his might not to smile back. “No.”   
  
“See?” David tucked his hair behind his ears, which was starting to get pretty long. If it curled right, it didn’t get in his eyes but it was starting to get to that point. “You’re a completely different person. It’s okay to mess up and have bad habits, you don’t need to be perfect. You’re a kid who’s been taught a lot of wrong and bad things, but you’re still a kid. You’re learning and you’re improving. But I know that in here,” he gave Max a poke in the chest. “You’re as kind and strong as they come, and you’re going to do  _ amazing  _ things, Max. Nobody, not even your parents, can change that part of you.”   
  
He stared at that stupid smiling, pale freckled face of a man who looked nothing like him but was more of a father to him in that moment than Sunil had ever been. What if David was right? What kind of person could he have been if he had been raised by someone like him? It didn’t feel fair that he got the short end of the stick, that someone like David had no children and someone like Sunil and Rishima got their hands on one. Max felt _cheated_.    
  
“God damn it,” he sobbed, reaching out and hugging his arms tight around David. He used to be surprised when Max hugged him and needed a moment to react, but not anymore. He didn’t skip a beat as he swept Max up in his arms. He picked him right up off the ground and held him tight, like he was always meant to be there. Max only cried a tear or two, because he was spent on crying but he needed this. His voice was hiccupy and muffled against the thick fabric of David’s coat, “Why did I have to be  _ his  _ son? It’s not fucking fair! If there’s a God, he hates me, David.” _Why couldn't you have been my dad?_   
  
“You’re right, it’s not fair.” David rocked him back and forth gently, just the right rhythm to help him keep from completely melting down. “But we’re making it right, little bear. I’m with you.”

  
  
They left when Max’s cough started to act up in the cold, but David carried him all the way back through the park until he was ready to be put down. The whole car ride back, David played one of their favorite playlists and Max actually sang along loud enough to be heard. He hated how his voice sounded alone, but with music and David to sing along with, it wasn’t so bad. David tapped the steering wheel along with the jovial tune, and Max tapped his foot silently along with it, realizing there was actually a method to it. He found a beat in the song, between notes and changes. Did all songs have that?  
  
He took his journal from inside his coat and flipped to one of the lists he had made himself. _Learn new things that make you happy. __  
__  
_“David?” he asked over the music.  
  
“What’s up, kiddo?”  
  
“Can you teach me to read music? _Just _to read it.”  
  
“Really? I’d love to! I have a piano at home, we can put it in your room! We can start when we get back!”  
  
“Okay, okay, don’t get all excited. I’m not committed or anything.”_  
__  
_  
They spent lunch time with David going through a beginners book with him, teaching him staffs and notes, breaking it down in easy rhymes and stuff for Max to remember. He showed him how to position in hands on the keys and together, they played simple scales together, harmonizing them. Max couldn't believe how fast he picked it up, that it just clicked somehow. _A B C D E F G, A B C D E...This one is an F natural..._  
  
David let him work on it alone for a while, but eventually Max felt burnt out. Not in a bad way, he had just hit his limit for productivity, so he closed the book and piano and hopped off the chair. He gazed around his room for a moment, marveling at all the work David had put into it. A canopy bed against the wall, with a tent like cover over the head of it, a big fluffy circle rug over the weathered wood floor, a book shelf in the wall and his favorite was the bay window. Set into the wall under it was a bench, covered with cushions and pillows, perfect for reading or napping. He could see himself writing in his journal there or talking with Nikki and Neil, and watching the deep Oregon wilderness behind the house beyond the fence.   
  
He turned off the twinkle lights on his way out and headed downstairs, wandering through the house until he came to the living room. "Hey, David, is it okay if I take the book ho--" he began but immediately hushed. David was slouched in his arm chair, head leaned down and snoring softly, one of those Planet Earth documentaries still playing on the T.V.  
  
Max hesitated and crept forward as quietly as he could, focused on the sound of David's breathing, reminding himself that it had only been a nightmare as he carefully extracted the remote from his hand and then covered him with a blanket. It was like surgery to move the leaver on the side to put out the foot rest and lean it back, but he managed to do it slowly enough so David didn't wake up.   
  
Max plunked down on the couch adjacent and turned down the T.V, settling in to wait until after David got some much needed rest.   
  



End file.
